To The Next
by queenfirst
Summary: "To the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure" — Albus Dumbledore. Pretty words, yeah, but she didn't expect them to be so damn literal. Sorta-SI/OC.
1. The Early Years

Chapter One

 _The Early Years_

Death came as a relief to her.

Sighing, she drifted toward the only smidge of light among the darkness. Without a body, she felt light as air, all her worries and concerns from her life ebbing away as she distanced herself from it.

What would greet her at the end of the tunnel? Did heaven and hell truly exist? If so, she seriously hoped she was heading towards the former.

As she reached the exit, her senses were enveloped by a searing brightness. Once it dimmed, she began to feel sluggish – _pained,_ even.

"She's beautiful," a man whispered.

"Well, she _is_ my daughter," murmured a woman.

"Our daughter," the man corrected.

The woman merely chuckled in response, and she could actually feel the vibrations caused by that action.

As she finally pried her eyes open, everything began to click into place. Talk of a daughter, a weary yet content couple peering at her, the way she could barely move her body… She was re-born – with her memories intact.

Her ear-shattering wails pierced through the night.

Alexandra Fortescue. That was her new name.

It sounded…rather pretentious, considering the simplicity of her old name. But that didn't really matter anymore. Because, as time went on, she found herself forgetting little tidbits about her old life. It was as if this new life of hers was battling with the old in order to assert dominance and reign control of her mind. Despite technically being seventeen, she acted more like her new age more often than not, crying when she was hungry, crying when she needed her diaper changed, and generally crying for no good reason.

Still, a part of her old self lurked in the back of her mind. It was that part which allowed her to be more observant than the average baby, to develop far more quickly than a normal infant should have – which was why she was quick to understand just when and where she had been reincarnated into.

Alex was one month old by then, and was slowly but surely regaining control of her limbs. The first few tries had resulted in the slapping of her parents' faces, which annoyed them at first before her amused giggles melted their irritation away.

Her mother, Julia, peeled Alex's chubby little hand off of her cheek. "You can't beat up Mummy as much as usual any more, sweetie," she said wryly. "I have to go back to work starting from today."

Alex blinked up at the woman. Work? What kind of work?

A large pair of hands scooped her up from behind, and suddenly she was peering up at her father instead. "But that means you get to be with me instead!" he declared, grinning down at her. "I can't wait for you to see the shop! It's a shame you can't eat anything, though."

A restaurant? Perhaps a café? Alex contemplated his words as Julia readied herself for her departure. She grabbed a handbag and a…cloak? Judging by the lack of technology in their house, Alex always assumed the current time period was the late 20th century, several decades prior to her previous life. She didn't know much about this current time period, but she was certain they didn't wear robes or cloaks.

"Right," said Julia, coming to a stop before them. She pecked her husband on the lips and tapped Alex's tiny nose with a smile. "I'll see you two tonight. Try not to destroy anything, okay?"

Alex felt Florean's scoff travel up his torso. "We'll be fine. Besides, I'm sure you can fix any damage we cause, can't you, Mrs Auror?"

Oh no.

Julia smirked as she headed to the fireplace. "I _can_ but it doesn't mean I _will_." Grabbing some powder in the jar from the ledge, she stepped into the fireplace and smiled in their direction. "Have a good day."

And then she vanished into thin air.

Oh yes.

She was in the world of _Harry Potter_. Hogwarts, magic, the Wizarding Wars, prejudice, harassment, terrorism…

She started crying again.

* * *

Diagon Alley was surprisingly drab. It was like the entire place was cast in darkness, and it might as well have been, what with the war going on. Many stores along the streets were closed down and boarded up, and the brave few that kept theirs open saw fewer customers with each passing day. Even with both parents working endlessly, Alex could tell they were struggling to get by.

But then everything changed on October 31st, 1981. Lord Voldemort had been defeated, his followers scattered and rounded up, and peace was restored. Or so claimed the papers.

Diagon Alley was finally allowed to bloom to life, and the abrupt change left her wide-eyed and open-mouthed. It was as if someone had just added colour to the world. Streams of people ran up and down the street, laughing and celebrating without a care in the world. Business boomed all over, and for the first time ever, Alex saw what her parents actually looked like when they didn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders. It shaved years off of them.

Generally, though, the first few years of her new life weren't too interesting. Most of her time was spent sleeping or crying, as well as eating and excreting. Even spending time in her father's ice cream parlour (for he was none other than the famous Florean Fortescue) was boring, since she could hardly see anything from her perch on his back. Child carriers, magical or not, left her with little to do.

One perk was seeing the occasional celebrity. Well, presumably so, anyway. The only ones she could really pick out were the gaggle of little Weasleys (sans Ron and Ginny), a girl whose hair changed in colour with every flavour of ice cream she drooled over, and even the occasional sight of Albus Dumbledore. She didn't know who was more excited – Florean or herself.

Seeing such crucial characters both mollified and worried her. A complete contradiction, true, but Alex's very existence was the epitome of such. While the familiar faces assured her that she was in world of _Harry Potter_ she had known so well in her previous life, part of her wondered if she had actually landed herself in an alternate universe, one that was fundamentally different from the world described in the novels.

She kept her eyes peeled for any telltale signs of her theory (or as much as she could as a newborn). Maybe she was an in parallel universe where Dumbledore was Minister and Fudge wasn't, or one where Dumbledore walked around dressed as a lemon, or maybe one where he got by on rollerskates instead of walking like the common people.

Clearly, she had given this a lot of thought – there wasn't much else she could, glued to her parents' sides as she was.

Man, did being a baby suck. She couldn't eat _anything_ besides mush. Granted, magical baby food was enchanted to taste somewhat more palatable, but it was nothing compared to how the ice cream she saw every day must've tasted.

"Mummy," called a squeaky voice. His voice was hushed, as if he was aiming for a whisper, but the boy didn't quite have the grasp on the action yet. "The baby keeps staring at my ice cream."

"You should give her some of yours, Percy," declared a grinning teenage boy, his ginger hair matching the rest of his family's.

Percy stared at his vanilla ice cream contemplatively. Before he could decide, though, their mother clicked her tongue. "Don't be silly, boys," she reprimanded them. "She can't eat ice cream yet."

That didn't seem to stop the youngest of the bunch. The pair of identical toddlers wobbled over to Alex, and tried their hardest to reach up to her and hand her their shared cone. Alex giggled at the sight, as did Florean.

"Thank you, boys, but you heard your mother," he said, firmly but gently. "It'll be a while yet until little Alexandra is ready."

Alex pouted at the reminder, but the twins agreed readily enough. They ran back to their mother, who was shaking her head in bemusement. "So sorry, Mr Flortescue. Fred and George can be a handful sometimes."

"It's fine, Mrs Weasley. They were just trying to cheer my little girl up – and it worked, too!" He winked at said twins, who beamed back at him with ice cream-coated grins. "And please, call me Florean. Hearing Mr Flortescue makes me want to turn around and look for my father."

"He was a wonderful Defense professor back in my time," said Mrs Weasley, smiling. "I'll call you Florean if you call me Molly."

"Of course." In one flawless movement, Florean scooped up a serving of strawberry ice cream, placed it in a cup, and handed it to Mrs Weasley. "On the house."

As expected, Mrs Weasley blushed and refused to accept his hand-out. After Florean's insistence that it technically wasn't free, since he received his daughter's smile in return, she caved and accepted with a smile.

If the Weasleys weren't regulars before, they were from then on. They popped in roughly once a month, not only purchasing a snack but taking the time to play with her when the shop became really busy. The older two, Charlie and Bill, often entertained her by pulling faces or whipping out magical toys which always dazzled her. Fred and George mostly poked and prodded her, acting as if they had never seen a baby before. Percy didn't really interact with her much, so she was forced to interact with him instead, crawling into his lap and pawing at his face.

Mrs Weasley was her favourite. She told her about wizarding fairy tales, enchanting not only Alex but her own children as well. Alex learnt a lot about wizarding folklore from her, such as the legend of Merlin and even that of Count Dracula. Her parents rarely had time to story-tell, so drained were they whenever they returned home from work.

This continued for a while, until Mrs Weasley came in to tell them she was expecting a baby herself. The visits slowed to a stop after that, so occupied was she with her growing family. Alex was facing boredom once more, waiting for the day she could get away with knowing how to read without drawing too much suspicion. Until then, though, it seemed she had to settle for sleeping the time away.

* * *

Alex's fork fell out of her limp hand and onto the tiled floor with a _clang_.

She couldn't believe it. She refused to.

"But I don't want to," she murmured, fists clenching on her lap.

"You have to, Alex," Mum said firmly. "It's for your own good."

Her lips twisted into a pout of their own accord. "But I already know how to read and write." _Probably even better than the both of you magical beings combined_.

"School isn't just about reading and writing," added Dad. "You learn all sorts of things! Like, um, maths and… oh, what was it again?"

Alex had to laugh at her dad's earnest but fruitless attempts. Mum wasn't as amused. "Every child needs to attend school. Unfortunately, because your dad and I have to work, we can't teach you ourselves. We also can't hire a private tutor."

Alex sighed, unbidden guilt rising once again. Her family wasn't poor, but they weren't wealthy either – and she largely suspected it was her fault. Children didn't come cheap, after all.

"Okay," she conceded. "I'll go."

School was a nightmare. She had known that in her past life, and now it was steadily reiterated by the screams and shouts of the animals around her. St. Grogory's Primary School was a nightmare. But it was the only one her parents knew of, due to its proximity.

Well, there was one silver lining at least. Because of her almost-prodigal intelligence— _snort_ —she had managed to prolong her absence from school for a good five-and-a-half years. At ten (and a half) years old, though, her parents finally decided it was time to send her to hell- er, school.

She wasn't sure _why_ , though. Her first instinct was that her parents wanted her to socialise with those her own age, but she could do that well enough at the shop if she really wanted to. (She didn't.) Maybe they thought she could only learn so much from books and the basics they could teach her in the spare time. Or—and this was the one she dwelled the least on—maybe they were preparing her for her future in the muggle world, in case she never showed any knack for magic and turned out to be the first squib in their families for a decade.

She could deal with being a squib. Really, it was best not to get tangled with the shit-hole that was the magical world, but the thought of disappointing her parents was so surprisingly and unbearably painful that she hoped the outcome was otherwise.

Something rammed into her legs, snapping Alex out of her grey thoughts. A boy around seven-years-old was moaning in pain as he pushed himself off the ground, before freezing like a deer in headlights when he noticed her staring down at him in mild surprise.

"I'm sorry!" he squeaked, jumping up. Judging by his immediate wince, it seemed like a regrettable move.

"No problem," she said, brow furrowed. _This kid looks weirdly familiar,_ she thought.

"Potter!" a voice barked. A rotund boy stomped towards them, three snickering kids trailing behind him. "You really are useless, aren't you? You can't even do my homework right!" His arm twitched as if he wanted to grab at the smaller boy, but it stilled when he finally noticed her presence. "Who are you?" he grunted.

She responded with an unimpressed look. "I think the real question is, what're you doing to him? Because it sure seems a lot like bullying."

The boys shared an uneasy look, but their fearless leader cracked his knuckles in what seemed to be a threatening gesture. "You'll leave if you know what's good for you."

Alex snapped her book shut and stood up, noting with pleasure that she was taller than the bully, if only just. "Yeah?" she asked challengingly. "I think you'll be the one leaving."

Before he could retaliate—either verbally or physically—Alex kicked out her feet from beneath her, sending her crashing to the harsh gravel. She landed on her rear and began screaming, much to the shock of those around her.

One of the teachers on playground duty rushed over. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked, panicked.

Sniffling, Alex thrusted an accusatory finger at the bullies. "They said mean things about me and then pushed me!"

The teacher rounded on them like a hawk. "Boys! Is this true?!" She cut off their pathetic stammers with a sharp wave of her hand. "Enough. Come with me. Lunch is over for you lot."

They tried to send her one last dirty glare, but were swiftly reprimanded by the teacher as she herded them away. Fierce satisfaction soared through her, and she smirked at their retreating backs.

"Thank you."

Alex flinched, remembering the other person with her. "It was no problem," she said, grinning slightly. "I'm Alex Fortescue."

The boy began to smile back. "My name's Harry Potter."

Alex's grin widened to the point that it looked a touch insane. "Nice to meet you, Harry. Wanna play a game?"

She knew a lot about Harry Potter – an uncomfortable amount, really. She knew how his parents was stolen from him when he was just a baby, and then he was forced to grow up with a family that would sooner kill him than love him. But that didn't prepare her for the intense reality of it all.

"Really?" he asked, hope shining painfully bright in his green eyes. Doubt overcame him as he bit his lip. "But Dudley and his gang… They'll bully anyone who even talks to me…"

Alex made a show of flipping her dark hair and thrusting her nose in the air. "I can take on a bunch of little boys," she said haughtily.

Reluctant amusement danced in Harry's eyes, thankfully washing away the raw emotion in them. "Well, okay. What do you want to play?"

And that was how she befriended the Chosen One.

They managed to fit in a few games of I Spy before the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. Harry seemed pretty bummed at leaving, and Alex couldn't help but reciprocate his sentiments. She would pick him over the kids in her class any day. Sure, they were essentially the same age, but Harry had a sense of maturity to him that the others (well, besides her, but she didn't really count) possessed. Then again, abuse tended to do that to a person.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she offered.

Smiling, Harry nodded. _Damn_ , she thought, _he's adorable_.

As the days trickled by, she and Harry grew closer. He was slowly emerging from his shell, and smiling much more. She wished she could invite him over sometimes, but her house screamed _magic_ , and her parents would never even entertain the thought. So she worked with what she got.

Her 405th day at school was over. Spotting a familiar head of unruly black hair, Alex waved goodbye to Harry with her free hand as the other held onto her mum's. He just managed to raise his hand before he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged off by a great lump called Dursley.

"Who was that?" Mum asked curiously as they headed out of the school.

Alex swung her arm enthusiastically, forcing her mum's arm to do the same. "My friend."

"Oh? What's his name?"

"Harry," she chirped. "He's in the grade below me."

"How did you meet?"

By the time her tale was over, her mum was grinning in unabashed glee. "Sneaky. But aren't you worried about their revenge?"

"Oh, they've tried," she admitted, aiming for casual despite feeling her mum stiffen. "But I can hold my own. They're rather dumb, and Harry is fast." They only tried to attack her during the breaks, but Alex was always careful to stay within the vicinity of an adult. When they caught her unawares that one time, Harry did as she warned prior and ran off, quick as a flash, to the nearest teacher.

Mum frowned, but said nothing. Alex's chest ached at her apparent concern. If only she knew what the future held…

"Can we see Dad and grab some ice cream?"

Mum rolled her eyes. "Sure, but only one scoop."

"'Kay."


	2. Company

**A/N:** Have you guys realised how much Rowling and her editing team adore capital letters? Quidditch, Aurors, Apparating - when you think about their real-world equivalent (football, police, driving) - it's really bizarre.

Thanks for all the encouraging reviews! Feel free to let me know if I made an error + predictions and anything you'd like to see happen as the story continues.

* * *

Chapter Two

 _Company_

To be honest, being in the world of _Harry Potter_ both delighted and terrified her. On the one hand: magic! On the other: magic… Because magic existed, so many wonderful and improbable things were possible with the flick of a wrist. But because it existed, the pain and suffering in the world was all the greater.

Sighing, Alex leaned onto the carriage wall, her face pressed against the cool glass of the window. This was it. Her journey as a witch was finally beginning.

The Hogwarts Express let out a loud _toot_ , causing one of the other first years to do the same as they stumbled through the corridor. Alex smirked at the sight but, for the poor kid's sake, she pretended she was laughing at the book in her lap instead.

Students from all years were calling out their farewells as the train began to move. Alex's own parents had left fifteen minutes ago. They managed to squeeze in some free time to send her off, but had to return to work eventually.

The day she had received her Hogwarts letter, Alex had turned stiff with apprehension. Honestly, she had been longing for the letter in both her past and current lives, but it wasn't until the shock wore off that the implications fully sunk in. Within the next few years, Hogwarts was going to source of her joy and happiness, but it would also cause much sorrow.

Her parents had been thrilled, of course. For the first few years of Alex's life, they were worried she would turn out to be a squib. Most babies and toddlers showed hints of magic accidentally; Alex had heard recounts of some children turning couches into ducks, replacing water with grape juice, and even altering others' hair colour. This was due to their childishness and lack of restraint. Alex, however, wasn't your average witch; it wasn't until she was ten that she showed her potential.

It happened as she was wandering around Diagon Alley. Her parents had deemed her responsible enough to walk around unsupervised, especially in an amicable place such as the Alley. As she played with the myriad of creatures in the Magical Menagerie, the bell hanging over the door tinkled cheerily, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Alex paid them no mind, focusing her attention instead on the cat nuzzling her hand.

"Mother, why are we in this zoo?" spat a young girl. "I don't even want a pet!"

"Hush, dear," commanded a woman, presumably the haughty girl's mother. "Do not make up your mind so hastily."

"But this place is so filthy. It's probably run by a mudblood," she muttered.

Alex twitched. She continued to pat the black cat on display as she subtly angled herself to catch a glimpse of the purist in the store. What she saw wasn't too surprising. The offending girl had an upturned nose which looked like someone had punched into her face, providing her with the face similar to a pug's.

Honestly, why did conservative witches and wizards believe they were superior simply because of their blood? If anything, they were the ones who were inferior - it was due to purebloods that the First Wizarding War took place; it was their fault that innocent people were harassed, assaulted and killed.

Unbeknownst to Alex, her hands had curled into fists. Naturally, this upset the cat she was stroking but, instead of attacking her, it lunged at Pansy with a hiss. Pansy screamed as she tried to rip the angry ball of black fur off of her face. Snarling, her mother grabbed her wand from the pocket of her robes. She flicked it, and the cat was sent flying through the air. Concern spiked in Alex's gut.

Instead of slamming into the cages lining the wall, though, the cat abruptly stopped mid-air. It floated for a second before gently drifting down to the floor.

During the fuss, the store owner had returned from the back, and was now trying to calm down the pair of women throwing a hissy fit. They eventually left the store – not without a huff or two, of course – but Alex was too stunned to pay much attention.

She had performed her first bout of magic! Her parents were going to be thrilled!

A soft mew drew her back to the present. Smiling, Alex stood up and reached for the carrier on the shelf above her. As she undid the latch, the grated door popped open, and a black cat jumped out and into her arms.

Spitfire purred happily as Alex scratched between his ears. After the whole incident in the pet store, the owner was outraged. She muttered her breath and glared daggers at proud cat even as Alex played with it. So she bought it then and there, lest the owner make good on the threats she was murmuring.

The first few minutes of the trip passed by peacefully. The train was just beginning to cross into the countryside when Alex's door slid open.

A girl with golden hair stepped in. Displeasure flickered over her features as her grey eyes landed on Alex, but it was gone in an instant. She pressed her thin lips into an even line. "I was hoping this carriage would be empty," she admitted, in a ridiculously snooty voice, "but I guess that would be too much to wish for."

Alex arched an eyebrow. "Please, feel free to join me," she said dryly.

The corner of the girl's lips twitched up in what could have been amusement. She seemed to take extra care as she headed towards her seat, trying to make her steps as small and graceful as possible. It wasn't working. Alex politely ignored the awkward scene as she took in the hues of pink and orange as the sun set. She only wished her new carriage buddy was equally conscientious, but the blonde seemed to intent in studying Alex's face before seemingly reaching a decision.

"I'm Agatha Gamp. Pureblood," she declared proudly, hand outstretched.

Alex accepted it firmly – perhaps overtly so, because Agatha winced as they shook hands. "Alexandra Flortescue." She dutifully pretended to not see the look Agatha gave her.

"Who are your parents?" she all but demanded as she retracted her large hand.

Alex stifled a huff. Of course the first person she'd meet on her Hogwarts journey would be an uppity pureblood fanatic. "Julia Aoda and Florean Fortescue," she replied.

"Aoda?"

The urge to roll her eyes was becoming more and more irresistible. "Japanese."

"Ah. That explains it," she noted, her eyes scanning Alex once more.

She fixed Agatha an unimpressed look. _I swear_ , she thought vindictively, _if someone so much as murmurs 'exotic', they're going to see what an auror's daughter is capable of_.

"Are you half?" Agatha asked bluntly.

"Yeah. My dad's Italian."

Agatha's lips twisted into a displeased pout. It was off-putting. "No, I meant, are you a _half-blood_?"

Alex was the embodiment of calm. "What does that matter?"

"Well, of course it matters!" spluttered Agatha. She ran a hand through her thick hair. "Purebloods are inherently better than half-bloods, and especially mudbloods," she hissed.

"Why?"

"Because- because our blood is purer and untainted! Our magic is much better than theirs!"

Alex executed a perfect head-tilt, the image of innocent ignorance. "But there have been skilled halfbloods and muggleborns throughout history, even more so than purebloods."

Indignant shock was still apparent on Agatha's long face, but it was slightly affected by no small amount of confusion. They spoke no more after that, both content to leave each to their own thoughts.

The train groaned as it came to a stop. Students who identified themselves as prefects ushered the others out onto the chilly platform. Alex shivered lightly as she stepped out. Before following the crowd, she turned to the doorway, where Agatha was delicately hopping off of the steps.

"See you," she offered.

Agatha frowned, but nodded. She hurried into the crowd without another word.

Spitfire mewed distastefully at the cold. Alex gave him one final pat before popping it in her jumper with his head sticking out from the top. She crossed her arms beneath her cat to keep him from sliding down before heading towards the general direction everyone was in.

"Ev'ry body here?" called a booming voice. "C'mon, c'mon, let's get to the boats!"

Hagrid easily towered over the little first years. With his height and seemingly stern features, he was a sight to behold, and quite a few of the children shuffled apprehensively behind him. Others glanced at his rugged clothing and scruffy hair with thinly veiled disgust. Alex, however, saw the way his brown eyes crinkled in delight, and she was willing to bet a few sickles that there was a smile hidden beneath that bushy beard of his.

The children followed Hagrid like obedient ducklings. They stepped off the platform and, a few seconds later, reached a vast lake riddled with stars. Alex wondered whether it was enchanted or if the stars were really that bright tonight.

Several small, wooden boats sat on the shore, waiting for the first years to jump in. Alex, like many others, waited until a few brave souls approached the boats first. Once it appeared completely safe, everyone was settled in quickly.

She barely registered the two others who had chosen the same boat. Instead, she focused on the body of water beneath her. It was practically pitch black, but she swore she could have seen something move down there. Merpeople? The giant squid? An excited smile tugged at her lips at the thought. Spitfire hissed.

The boys in her boat gasped. Alex glanced up, and her mouth fell open at the sight. A classically ancient castle peered down at them. The windows were lit with a warm yellow light, which seemed to welcome the first years as they approached. As she marvelled at the sight of Hogwarts, any and all apprehension she felt about her magical school life vanished from her mind. Nothing but pure excitement remained. For the first time in a long time, Alex felt like she was actually eleven.

Hagrid quickly and efficiently led them off the boats and up into the castle. He soon handed them off to the deputy headmistress, but not before wishing them good luck. He was probably aiming to assure the worried students, but he had the opposite effect, funnily enough.

As opposed the friendly aura Hagrid exuded, Professor McGonagall looked like the gravest person to ever live. Her lips were pressed together firmly as she stared down at them, silencing the murmurs in an instant. Alex hoped to be like her someday.

"Welcome, first years," she began. "In a few moments, I will lead you into the Great Hall over here. This is where you'll be Sorted into the following four houses: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Once you've been sorted, you must sit down in the appropriate area. Understood?"

Heads bobbed up and down in cowed acceptance. Some of the students wore excited grins, while others were blank with consideration.

Professor McGonagall continued to explained about the Start-of-Term Feast before the great doors of the Great Hall opened with a great creak. There was no one near it, though, so someone – most likely Dumbledore – must have magicked it open. Delighted gasps ruffled through the crowd as they took in the grand sight. Even the shyest of children paid no mind to the hundreds of eyes on them as they stepped through the Great Hall, their attention too focussed on the enchanted ceiling above them.

Alex grinned. Yes, the stars really were that bright tonight.

As the first years were herded to the front of the Hall, McGonagall grabbed a stool with a generic witch's hat atop of it. Several students stared at it, nonplussed, and almost screamed when one of its folds parted into some semblance of a mouth. And then it began to sing. It was pretty good at it, too. The song was nothing to sneeze at – it must have been difficult composing it, making sure it rhymed as well as flowing smoothly to boot. Then again, the Hat probably did nothing 364 days of the year, so…

Polite applause followed the song, though Alex clapped more enthusiastically than appropriate. She received some looks for that, but they could suck it.

McGonagall unfurled a long piece of parchment and read the first name on the list. "Arthrid, Diana."

Being the first at anything was never easy. Poor Diana was practically trembling with nerves as she stepped up and sat on the stool. McGonagall lowered the Hat onto her brown hair, but it barely grazed the top of her head before declaring, "RAVENCLAW!"

Diana hopped off the stool, beaming. She quickly dashed to the table which was applauding enthusiastically, her tie changing colours as she did so.

"Axon, Roderick!"

And so it went, until, finally, "Fortescue, Alexandra!"

Alex took a deep breath. She went to decide her fate.

The Hat fit snugly on her head. _"Oh my,"_ it whispered. _"This is certainly unusual."_

She stiffened _. No way._

 _"This is the first time I've encountered such a case. How did you do it?"_

 _Hell if I know._ Alex's frown deepened as their audience continued to stare. _Shouldn't we get back to the sorting?_

The Hat chuckled. _"Very well. It would be unfair to place you in Ravenclaw, considering your advantage, even if your thirst for knowledge is there. Gryffindor? No, no, definitely not…"_ Wow, rude. _"Your path will be much easier were you to be placed in Hufflepuff, but alas, your ambition and cunning make you a perfect candidate for…_ SLYTHERIN!"

What. The. Hell.

A long time ago, when she was a different person, Alex fantasised about joining the Slytherin House when she inevitably received her Hogwarts letter and travelled overseas to attend Britain's finest magical school. She was cold and sly, and so seemingly perfect for the House. But she never really understood the detrimental side-effects of becoming a Slytherin. The subtle harassment, the prejudice, the cruelty – it was everything she hated in people and more, all wrapped up in a neat package that she was forced to live with for the next seven years.

Maybe she'd be reborn in the Pokémon world in her next life.

* * *

Her days at Hogwarts passed by peacefully. Well, as peacefully as it could when one was a Slytherin. There was a lot of jeering and not-so-friendly teasing, but Alex could hold her own against the little snakes, and the occasionally haughty serpent. They weren't nice, but they weren't unbearably cruel either. She supposed she had her blood to thank for that.

She ended up bunking with Agatha, along with a brunette named Katherine Doge, and identical twins McKayla and Alicia Dulburry. The latter two tended to isolate themselves from everyone else, and Alex paid them no mind in response. Agatha, however, was torn between shooting Alex bemused and frustrated looks. She otherwise barely acknowledged her, instead socialising with the quiet and almost invisible Katherine. Which left Alex alone by default. Not like that was anything new.

Still, she coped. She did then and she was doing it now. The glaringly empty hole in her heart was filled with Spitfire and the plethora of books readily available in the library. It was far larger than the libraries she had seen in her past life, even more so than the university library her alma mater bragged about.

After devouring the books assigned for her classes, she began with the basics of the magical world. More often than not, the books devoured her. (Figuratively, of course. She didn't have access to the restricted section yet.) Time flew by each time she found an interesting book and, more often than not, she was forced to hurry back to her dorm before curfew fell. Madam Pince made it her job to go around the library warning students that their time was up, but Alex always chose the most secluded spots to huddle in. It was only when the shift in temperature sent a chill creeping down her spine that she realised night had fallen, quickly and quietly. One day, she was going to end up having to stay overnight; she just knew it.

" _Tempus,"_ she murmured at her wand. The time hovered over its tip. _21:08_. Sighing, she cancelled the spell and lowered the stick. Too early for curfew, too late for dinner. That meant only one thing – the kitchens.

None of the books she had read so far actually listed the location of the kitchens, but that was what her prior knowledge was for. Well, sort of. She knew she had to tickle a painting of a pear, and it was on the same floor as the Hufflepuff dorms, but that was all she knew.

Alex thought furiously as she traversed the dimly lit hallways. Hogwarts really needed to do away with the archaic candles and move onto the more efficient lightbulbs, but _nooo_. The Founders just had to do make it so that all technology was reduced to fodder the moment it reached the grounds, didn't they?

Hey. That was an idea.

Alex paused in her steps and turned to the nearest painting. She chose the one that wasn't pretending to sleep (why would paintings need rest?) and cleared her throat softly. "Excuse me," she said, "but do you happen to know where the Hufflepuff dorms are?"

A woman in ancient clothing peered at her suspiciously. "Why?"

Alex lowered her head and fidgeted, playing the part of the nervous first year. "My friend's in Hufflepuff, and I was hoping to return her book." She opened her bag slightly, revealing one of the books she had borrowed from the library. "She needs it urgently for her essay, you see, and I don't know when I'll see her next."

She gave Alex one last look before coming to a decision. "Very well. But first, what is your name?"

"Oh. Um, Alex Fortescue." Her reaction was genuine this time.

"Fortescue, eh? Your ancestor was once headmaster here, did you know? He was the one who hired me."

Alex blinked. "You were a professor, ma'am?"

"Indeed. I taught History of Magic for a good decade before that lousy Binns mucked it all up."

Was death the reason she was replaced? Or did she simply quit herself? Curiosity niggled at her, but manners held her back.

"Well, young Miss Fortescue, the Hufflepuff common room is located in the basement of the castle. You must descend the stairs by the Great Hall in order to reach it. Now," she added, her voice growing stern, "if I hear about any mischief, I will be reporting you to the headmaster. Understood?"

Alex nodded obediently. "Thank you, ma'am. May I visit you again sometime"—she glanced at the copper tag on the frame—"Professor Galing?"

The middle-aged professor gazed at her with visible surprise before nodding curtly.

She smiled. "Good night."

Satisfied with her accomplishment, Alex dashed off. Her wand was still out, lighting the way with a _lumos_ whenever the hallways grew too dim. It'd also be handy in case anyone fancied using an ickle first year as target practice. They were kids, sure, but wizards were barbaric like that.

When they said 'basement', Alex had pictured a dark, stuffy room filled with cluttered boxes. But this was Hogwarts, so of course it really meant a large room that was a whole floor in and of itself. It was no dimmer than the other floors, and there were several portraits snoozing away. To one end, she saw barrels which signalled the location of the Hufflepuff common room. Halfway between it and the staircase was a painting of a bowl of fruit.

It was unusually large, the painting. No one really appreciated a bowl of fruit _that_ much. Besides, it practically radiated magic.

That was something she was quick to learn growing up. She'd been raised in a magical environment, so it wasn't until her first day at St. Grogory's did she realise how…off everything felt. After she returned home from her first day, the air itself seemed to buzz with energy. She dismissed it after a few seconds, but then it happened again the next day. Once she concentrated, she realised _why_ it was happening: she was becoming sensitive to magic. St. Grogory's was appallingly devoid of magic (save Harry, herself, and a few other people, surprisingly enough), so returning to her magical home was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on her.

Through chance, Alex discovered that her focus improved if she had her wand in hand. Now, if she concentrated, she could pinpoint objects and places which were brimming with magic. It was a bit harder to do so in Hogwarts, since it was practically the embodiment of magic, but in quieter places like the basement, it was much more doable.

Feeling oddly embarrassed, Alex tickled the pear in the painting. It giggled – and that wasn't frightening in the least – before defying the laws of physics by transforming into a very solid, very tangible doorknob. She hesitantly twisted it open and stepped into the newfound door.

If she thought the basement was huge, it had nothing on the kitchens. It was easily the size of the Great Hall, if not bigger, and was abuzz with activity even in this time of night. A handful of house-elves stopped and stared at her, but most returned to their business soon after. Alex turned to the nearest one, a little thing who was staring at her unabashedly.

"Hi," she said.

"H-Hello," it squeaked. "What is we can do for Miss…?"

"Fortescue. Alex Fortescue." It felt weird being called by her surname after almost two decades of using her first name, but when in Rome… "I was actually wondering if I could grab a bite? I missed dinner."

"Oh," the house-elf murmured in understanding. "Okay. Kippy will be fetchings Miss Fortescue some leftovers."

"Appreciated," she said, smiling. "I'll just have a seat over there."

Alex strode over to one of the four long tables, separate from the tools and utensils of the kitchen. 'Kitchen' was a bit inaccurate, she thought. 'Dining hall' was more like it, since the room was split into two – the part where all the cooking and plating actually took place, and then the tables, which were obviously connected to the House tables in the Great Hall above. It was an amazing system.

When Kippy placed a plate of roast chicken, mash and peas in front of her, Alex was half-afraid it would disappear into the Great Hall. The elves had probably cancelled the magic, though, since dining times were long gone.

After thanking Kippy (and waiting for the house-elf to finish stammering through a reply) Alex ate her in meal in silence, with the occasional interruption from a shyly curious elf.

It was much better than eating in the Great Hall. Though she was surrounded by many more people in the Hall, they barely acknowledged her presence. The house-elves, however, did.

Well, she knew where she was going to have her meals from now on.


	3. Freak

Chapter Three

 _Freak_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _How are you? Staying out of trouble, I hope. Ha, just kidding – could you imagine? You're a trouble magnet, and I love it. But don't worry, you'll be out of that hell-hole soon enough; trust me._

 _Again, I'm sorry for ditching you in the middle of that wolf's den. I'll visit as soon as winter break rolls by! Boarding school is a pain. I can't believe I have to bunk with a couple of strangers for the next seven years. At least none of them snore._

 _I really hope you get this letter. If you don't reply, I'll know you haven't, and I'm sure my parents would be more than happy as to drop by asking why. Tampering with another's mail is illegal, after all. Considering her job, Mum wouldn't be too pleased._

 _Write soon!_

 _Alex_

Sighing, Alex clicked her ballpoint pen shut. She ran a critical eye over her letter, scanning for any errors, before nodding to herself and folding it. It slid into the envelope roughly, and she sealed it shut with a common Sealing Charm. Hogwarts was in desperate need for the introduction of glue.

She sincerely worried for Harry. He was so small, and so vulnerable – even more so now that she was practically a whole world away from him. The only way she could really ensure he was okay was through letters, though that method itself was unreliable. She didn't send the owl directly to 4 Privet Drive, though; no doubt Dumbledore had the magical mail system tightly controlled around the domain. Instead, she sent Harry's letters—along with those to her parents—directly to her own home, wherein her mum would plop the letter into one of the local mailboxes. Dreadfully inconvenient, but it was the best she could do for now.

Another sigh escaped her. Well, there was no use worrying over it too much.

The trek to the owlery was torture. Not only was it located in one of the highest points of the castle, the constant draughts of cool air grew fiercer the closer she got to it. She tried to cast a Warming Charm on her cloak, but her magic seemed to be spazzing out, because it got hot so quickly she almost thought she had set herself on fire. Alex hastily cancelled the spell after that. Better to be slightly cold than roasted alive.

Her problems ended up cancelling each other out, though. By the time she reached the owlery, she was so winded and warm that even the chill from this height barely bothered her. Her small reprieve would wear off soon, however, so she quickly approached the nearest school owl, as indicated by the nameplate tacked onto its cubby.

"Hi, Al," she said soothingly, despite the grimace that threatened to ripple across her features. Which sick bastard named an owl 'Al'? She was willing to bet it was their illustrious headmaster. "I need you to send this letter to 18 Forrest Lane, please. Just pop it on the doormat, okay?"

Alex withdrew a smidgen of bacon from her pockets, unwrapping it before offering it to Al. The speckled owl gobbled it up greedily. It let out an appreciative squawk and offered its leg to her. She attached the letter to it swiftly, and jumped back as Al straightened and flew out of one of the open windows in the tower.

She waited until she could no longer see the owl before turning away. Two surprised faces gaped back at her.

"Wow," one of them whispered.

"You conquered the unconquerable," his twin added.

"You tamed Al the owl!"

Alex closed her eyes for a mere moment as a wave of memories slammed into her. Twins with red hair, mischievous eyes, and a penchant for talking as one? There were few who matched that profile, and fewer who were in Gryffindor.

"Tamed?" she echoed, confused. "It seemed pretty docile to me."

As if rehearsed, the Weasley twins shook their heads simultaneously. "Nuh-uh," said the one on the left.

"It always tries to nip at us whenever we get too close."

"Then again, it might be because we kept trying to Transfigure it, eh, George?"

George shook his head. "Honestly, Fred, I don't understand where you get these wild ideas from."

Alex shifted uncomfortably. Would they even notice if she up and left right now? "Um, yes," she mumbled, tugging on a lock of dark hair. "If you'd excuse me…"

Rather than moving out of the only exit in the goddamn room, Fred stood rooted, an incredulous expression on his face. "A _polite_ Slytherin?"

George mirrored his brother's reaction. "I must be dreaming. Pinch me, Gred." When Fred actually obeyed, George yelped and whacked him on the arm.

Alex found her patience running short. "Maybe we'd be more polite if we didn't receive this reaction all the time," she said scathingly.

Naturally, this ruffled the twins. "You're joking, right?" sneered Fred.

"Maybe we wouldn't be so surprised if your lot weren't so snooty and condescending," added George, scowling.

A chill ran down her spine, her anger mounting. Honestly, she didn't need this right now. All Alex wanted to do was curl up in the library with a few books, finish her homework, and then run down to the kitchens for some food. Why were wizards so damn _obstinate_ and _pugnacious_?

The owls began to squawk, both in warning and in fright. The twins' eyes were wide as they alternated between staring at her, the distraught birds, and the tiny gale that seemed to invade the owlery. Alex's wand began to grow warm in her grip, and it was only then that she realised she was the cause of the disruption.

The moment she understood, her shoulders went slack. The wind died down, followed by the chirps of the owls. Her frustration receded, leaving her oddly drained. She ignored the gapes of the twins as she rushed down the stairs, blood rushing in her head as she wondered _what the hell just happened?_

A few minutes later, the panic abated somewhat. She slowed to a snail's pace, wandering aimlessly through the vast castle. She needed answers, desperately, but from whom? Normally, any issues students had were to be taken to their Head of House, but Snape scared the jeebies out of her – and this was coming from someone who had somehow duped Death. So, no, he was out of the question.

Her next option was Dumbledore, but… To be frank, she didn't trust him, not completely. He was powerful and intelligent, yes, but he was also confident to a fault. It was hubris, really, the way he acted as if he could control anyone and everyone around him. Besides, she wouldn't put it past him to abuse his powers and break into her mind for information.

McGonagall, maybe? She was the deputy, and firmly fair and unbiased (for the most part). But she was far too loyal to Dumbledore…

Alex was so lost in her thoughts that she paid no attention to her surroundings. As such, when she was doused with icy water, she yelped loudly in surprise.

Her head snapped up. There were no snickering students anywhere, just a frightened ghost who was staring at her like…like he had seen a ghost.

That explained the freezing sensation. Despite the fact that he was no longer touching her, Alex shivered violently. Walking through a ghost _definitely_ wasn't on her top ten list of things to do.

"You," the ghost whispered. "You've been touched by Death! But how?"

Alex cringed. _Crap_. Her eyes darted to the side, but this part of the castle was devoid of people for now.

"What _are_ you?" the ghost murmured.

A scowl twisted her brow. Alex glared at the ghost who, judging by the gruesome cut across his throat, was Nearly Headless Nick. Of course. Only Gryffindors could be so obtuse.

"I'm a person," she spat. The venom in her system disappeared as the words left her lips. She sighed tiredly. What a day. And it was only, what, five p.m.? "I'm just…me."

Sir Nicholas, for all his Gryffindorish ignorance, had the self-awareness to look ashamed. "Right," he said, nodding. Unfortunately, the action loosened his head from his neck, and Alex was able to see what exactly a (nearly) headless neck would look like. She thanked Merlin that ghosts were perpetually grayscale.

"Pardon me. I have yet to introduce myself. I am Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, but I prefer to go by Sir Nicholas." He gazed at her imploringly.

 _Subtlety, thy name is not Sir Nicholas._ "Alexandra Fortescue," she replied coolly.

"If you don't mind me snooping, Miss Fortescue, may I ask why you seemed so distraught when you came through here?'

Alex weighed the pros and cons of answering. To her knowledge, ghosts typically remained uninvolved in wizarding affairs, and so they didn't strictly report to Dumbledore or any other professor about every little thing in the castle. But that didn't mean they wouldn't.

On the other hand, he was so willingly asking about her problem. He was centuries old, and so he must have picked up _something_ in all those years.

"You have to swear not to tell anyone," she began, staring Sir Nicholas in the eye. When he agreed, albeit slightly reluctantly, she exhaled sharply, and told him what happened in the owlery.

Sir Nicholas thought for a moment once her story ended. "I don't think you have cause for worry," he admitted. "All young wizards and witches perform accidental magic whenever they're feeling extremely emotional."

"But…" Alex fiddled with her wand. "This thing rarely happens. And I wasn't even _that_ upset."

"Nevertheless, it is quite common. There is no need to fuss, I assure you."

Alex shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I suppose," she murmured. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure. Now," he continued, his voice growing sly, "do you mind answering a question for me in exchange?"

 _You little…_ Alex nodded, her lips pinched tight. "It's only fair," she grudgingly replied. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Sir Nicholas frowned at the non-sequitur. "I've spent my entire afterlife contemplating what happens after death. I can't say I've come to a conclusion on that front. Unless…?"

She nodded. "Yes. I died, and then I was reborn."

"And you remember it," deduced Sir Nicholas, a look of horror flashing across his features.

"It wasn't so bad," she said softly. She shook her head to dismiss the cobwebs of memories. "Well, now you know. I'll see you around, Sir Nicholas."

* * *

Her first flying lesson was fast approaching, and all the first-years were abuzz with either excitement or trepidation. Most were seeking advice from more experienced students, or pouring over flying guides for assistance. Alex, however, was out by the lake, a pebble in one hand and her wand in the other.

She glanced at the book in her lap before gazing determinedly at the pebble. She threw it straight up into the air. As it began its quick descent to the ground, she pointed her wand at the grass and called, " _Pillify_!"

The familiar sensation of magic soared through her arm toward her wand. She could feel the magic rush to the spot she had in mind, just as the pebble reached the ground. Instead of falling straight into the blades of grass, however, it hovered over it. She did it! _The Cushioning Carm works!_

Before she could even smile, the spell cancelled itself, its conjurer no longer focusing on it. The pebble was reunited with the ground once more. Alex clicked her tongue and went to look for a larger target. _Where's_ _Spitfire when you need him?_ she wondered to herself.

Casting a charm at her leisure was one thing, but it was another thing entirely when one was in the air with nothing supporting her besides a cleaning utensil. Sure, Madam Hooch was there, but if she hadn't helped Neville Longbottom, then it was quite unlikely that she would help her.

With that in mind, Alex began to climb one of the nearby trees. She shed her bothersome cloak and shimmied up the tree slowly, half-wishing she had worn trousers today. There was a large fork in the middle of the tree, created by two thick boughs, and she settled into it with a grunt.

She glanced around for any surprise bowtruckles. "I hope _Hogwarts, A History_ was right," she muttered. "There better not be any magical creatures outside of the Forbidden Forest."

Alex swallowed nervously as she peered down below her. Though the drop was no more than two metres, it was still mildly unnerving. The height from a broom was much worse, though, so she had to suck it up in order to build her tolerance and confidence. She dropped her Charms book, the incantation for the Cushioning Charm on the tip of her tongue.

When she succeeded three times in a row, she climbed further up the tree, and _accio_ 'dthe book. (The Summoning Charm probably wasn't suited for anyone below the level of third years, but Alex was technically much more developed than her peers.) The process was repeated. She got to the point where there were no longer any branches safe enough to place her weight on, which meant it was time for the final test: cushioning herself.

The key to charm-casting was fairly simple. All a capable magician had to do was remain (mostly) calm and collected, and have the resolve to will the spell into existence. Alex was sure that not wanting to hurt herself was enough to fuel her determination and successfully cushion herself.

With that thought in mind, she leapt off of the tree…and landed safely amongst invisible cushions.

She grinned. The lesson was going to go off without a hitch.

Well, she turned out to be mostly right.

The flying lesson took place during first period, probably because it was best to get it out of the way so the thought of it wouldn't distract the students during their other classes. The first year Slytherins were sharing the class with the Ravenclaws. Interestingly enough, the snakes shared most of their classes with the eagles and badgers, and hardly ever with the lions. She could see why it was organised like so—to minimise fighting between Houses—but the core issue wasn't being handled, merely avoided. Maybe she'd talk to someone about creating activities to promote Inter-House Unity or whatever. Heaven knew there were already enough meaningless prejudices in the wizarding world without petty schoolyard rivalries added to the fray.

The sky was bright and clear, strangely enough. Did Madam Hooch predict the weather and schedule the class accordingly, or was a wide-scale spell used to ensure only the perfect conditions for today's lesson? Alex was betting on the former, but one never knew the extent wizards and witches went for the sake of flying and quidditch…

"Everyone beside a broom?" barked Madam Hooch.

Some of the students—mainly Ravenclaws—nodded in affirmation. Alex herself merely watched from the top of the Slytherin line. Like in her other life, she was left-handed. Due to her premature awareness, she had trained herself to be ambidextrous (it was awfully useful) but her dominant hand was still ol' lefty.

Madam Hooch's sharp, yellow eyes scanned them much like a hawk would. "Good. Now, when I blow this whistle, hover your hand over the handle and say a firm, 'Up!' It won't work otherwise. Ready?" Without another warning, she whistled sharply.

The students jolted into action. A chorus of 'up!'s followed, with varying degrees of success. Alex imagined a dog in the stead of the broom, and called a stern, "Up." She almost didn't notice the tingle in her hand that came before the broom shot straight up into her open palm.

Huh, so one had to channel magic into their actions in order for it to work smoothly. But why hadn't Madam Hooch mentioned it? Or did she herself not realise it? The thought troubled Alex.

Most of the shouts had died down, allowing Alex to take notice of the Ravenclaw boy across from her, who was desperately whispering to his broom. His furious yet hushed murmurs were ignored by most, including a preoccupied Madam Hooch and his broom itself. And no wonder – he wasn't nearly firm enough.

Alex cleared her throat. "You have to be stricter," she said lowly, her eyes flitting towards the other students. No one was paying them any mind – not obviously, at any rate. "Act like you're trying to command a pet."

The boy glanced at her, surprised, before nodding. "Up!" he yelled, much more loudly and confidently than before. The battered broom didn't shoot up into his hand, but it rose up to him all the same. Grinning, he closed his hand around the handle.

Alex smiled slightly at his obvious glee, but it was wiped clear off her face when he turned his grin to her. "Thank you," he said brightly.

Wow. When was the last time someone besides her parents had directed such unrestrained joy to her? Not even little Harry, bless his cuteness, was capable of showing such happiness towards her. His life was far from pleasant, after all.

Madam Hooch began speaking again, snapping Alex out of her stupor. She nodded faintly at the chipper boy before swinging her leg over the broom, trying to keep her mind from wandering into the gutter.

"Grip the broom firmly—yes, good job, Miss Wrint—and remember, when you're riding it, it's all in the hips."

Madam Hooch's commentary only made things worse. She prowled around the students, adjusting a grip or position here and there. Once satisfied, she said, "Again, I will blow my whistle. This time, kick off the ground and hover for a few moments, but _don't_ go any higher than my head. Ready?"

The class moved at her whistle, with a few apprehensive students following a beat after. Fortunately, no one pulled a Neville, even if some floated too high for Madam Hooch's liking. Judging by the cocky smirks said students were wearing, it seemed intentional. Alex rolled her eyes. _Braggarts_.

Riding a broomstick was odd. It wasn't as uncomfortable as one would assume, since all the school brooms—if not every broom in the Wizarding World—were charmed so that it felt like a stiff sofa. Not too comfy, but not painful either.

Madam Hooch ordered the students to pair up to fly together. Alex waited, only faintly saddened, as everyone sought out their friends. She quickly did the math and knew she wouldn't be left out like in other classes, but it was a small comfort.

"Hullo," chirped the Ravenclaw boy. He was still positioned across her, even if they were several feet from the ground. "Mind pairing up with me?"

Her grip on her broom almost slipped in her surprise. "Oh, um, sure," she said, rather breathlessly – and not because she had almost fallen.

The boy smiled sunnily, his white teeth almost glowing in comparison to his dark skin. "Great! I'm Duncan Inglebee."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "Alex Fortescue."

"Is this your first time flying, Alex?" he asked, leaning forward on his broom slightly and drifting closer to her.

Huh. The first one at Hogwarts who used her first name. "Yep," she replied, eying him curiously. "You?"

He shook his head, though kept watch of the pairs of students as they flew to the end of the pitch before returning to the group. "No, I've flown loads of times at home. I've even played a little bit of quidditch!"

Alex tried to disguise her distaste at the mention of the brutal sport. Honestly, how barbaric was it that a myriad of wizards—children, as well—played a sport that ended in serious injuries and even death so cavalierly? Not to mention the attitude with which it was regarded. The spectators were like bloodthirsty animals, crying and cheering as they watched others try to avoid getting maimed in the name of entertainment.

"I see," she said simply. "What position did you play?"

"Beater!" he exclaimed excitedly. "But we only ever had a full team during the holidays, when the family all got together, so I didn't play as much as I wanted."

Alex had to chuckle at how visibly and dramatically disappointed he was. "Well, you'll only have to wait one more year before you get to play in a real team, huh?"

Duncan stared at her for a moment, an oddly calculative look in his eyes.

 _A Ravenclaw indeed_ , she mused to herself.

"You really think I can?" he asked, with a sudden quietness that didn't suit him whatsoever.

Alex shrugged. "I haven't seen you play, or even fly yet, so I can't say for sure," she admitted. She softened her features. "But you have heart, and that's something just as valuable as raw talent."

Duncan blinked away the brief vulnerability. His eyes sparkled as he regarded her in a new light and, were this a cartoon, she was sure there would be stars in his brown eyes.

They were up next. True to his word, Duncan was a skilled flyer. He shot off at first, perhaps wanting to prove his prowess. When he caught sight of her as he began to double back, though, he matched her pace. She was nowhere near Duncan's level, possessing neither the experience and perhaps talent he did, but she wasn't slow enough to be considered dead weight. Her pace was acceptable, thank you very much.

Honestly? Flying was…exhilarating. Frightening, yes, but once she ignored how far she was from the ground, and focused on the unlimited expanse before her, pure excitement followed.

Now certain that no one was entirely incompetent, Madam Hooch had them flying laps around the pitch. She watched them keenly from her perch on her own sleek broomstick, making sure no one bothered anyone else, or overshot themselves and took a nose-drive to the ground.

The more Alex flew, the lighter she felt. She was practically giddy by the end of the lesson. And not once was she forced to use the Cushioning Charm.


	4. Halloween

**A/N:** Debated waiting 2 months to post this in Oct, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting too long! Enjoy :)

* * *

Chapter Four

 _Halloween_

After that day with the flying lesson, Alex became more aware of Duncan. Whenever she showed up for breakfast and lunch—but not dinner, never dinner—and sat down at the end of the Slytherin table, he would move down to sit on the end of the Ravenclaw table. She only noticed this when he tapped her on the shoulder, making her jump.

She turned around warily, only to be pleasantly surprised by the sight of Duncan's smiling face. He didn't talk to her much during meals, merely saying hi, bye, or commenting on something or the other during the lulls in conversation he shared with his fellow Ravenclaws.

Alex was glad for that. While she appreciated, and even enjoyed, Duncan's camaraderie, she wasn't too comfortable with spending much time with children. Their wavelengths were just too different. They worried about trivial things, gossiped plenty, and were just too…immature. Some were cute, though, she could admit; they'd probably become more bearable as time passed.

Duncan also made an effort to sit next to her in the classes they shared, which was fairly often. The first time he did so was during Transfiguration, and she was sitting in her usual seat at the back of the Slytherin half of the room. Duncan walked in, saw her, and made a beeline for the seat beside her. His redheaded friend looked conflicted, but eventually sat on Duncan's other side, ignoring her completely.

This was the first time both houses had seen such a display. Whispers broke out, and more than one raised eyebrow was directed their way. Alex rolled her eyes at the dramatics and, though Duncan looked uneasy, he did his best to ignore it.

Transfiguration was one of the most difficult subjects, in Alex's opinion. It was hard imagining inanimate objects as anything more than that, and even more so when she actually had to change it into something. Fortunately, because they were first years, they were focusing on nothing more turning an object into another object for now, as opposed to an actual living, breathing lifeform.

Alex stared long and hard at the leaf on her desk. Professor McGonagall had explained the task to them, providing them with an elaborate run-down on the theory, a demonstration as well as an illustration and notes on the chalkboard at the front of the class. Despite all this, Alex struggled.

She turned to her tablemates. Duncan was in the process of transfiguring his leaf into parchment, while his friend was sitting back, relaxed, his parchment already complete.

Her eyes widened. "How did you do that?" she blurted.

Duncan looked up, but didn't seem surprised at his friend's work. "Grant here's a Transfiguration whiz," he grumped. "Or should I say Transfiguration wizard?"

Alex snorted at the pun. "Nice," she murmured to Duncan. To Grant, she said, "I'm Alexandra Fortescue."

"Grant Page," Duncan's friend replied.

What a…normal name. It was nice and simple, unlike the convoluted and almost ridiculous names of those in her house. Grant was definitely a muggleborn, then, or a half-blood.

Alex stopped herself short. Was she really beginning to put stock in the whole blood status deal?

"So," she said, derailing that train of thought, "you're quite skilled at Transfiguration. How do you do it?"

"You're asking me for help?" asked Grant, bewildered. "Why?"

Alex frowned. "Am I not meant to?" she asked cautiously, but she had a sinking suspicion…

"Well, you're a Slytherin. You should be, I don't know, too proud to ask for help – from someone in another House, no less."

"That's stupid," she said flatly. Grant bristled, offended by the insult to his Ravenclaw intelligence. She ignored it. "If I need help, I'm going to ask…unless it's from someone I despise." She felt her lip curl as bitterness seeped into her words. "This House rivalry thing is ridiculous."

"Very…inspiring," noted the stern voice of Professor McGonagall. "But perhaps save it for _after_ the lesson?" She nodded approvingly at Duncan's and Grant's efforts before moving along.

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping her embarrassment would fade.

"Right," Grant said suddenly. "I'll help you."

She brightened. "Thank you."

"So, before you try the spell, you have to explicitly picture what you want your final result to be. This task is about shaping a leaf into a sheet of parchment, right? How thick is the parchment? What about the length? Is it smooth or crinkled? Think about it, and then cast the spell."

Alex nodded in understanding. What he said wasn't too different from McGonagall's explanation, but it suddenly seemed much clearer.

She reached a conclusion herself: she needed to stop thinking like a muggle, and start thinking like a witch. For most muggles, it was pretty impossible to turn one thing into another by simply waving a hand and saying the magic words, but for them? It was nothing.

She…was no longer a muggle. She was a witch now. That life was gone.

With a shuddering breath, Alex cleared her mind of everything but her desired end result. A simple piece of parchment, no bigger than an A4 sheet, and perfectly neat and flat. The image remained in her brain as she picked up her wand and waved it at her leaf. It was a perfect replica of her imagined image.

She beamed. "Thanks!" she told Grant.

He blinked, startled, before smiling slightly himself.

Professor McGonagall, too, expressed her surprise when she came around once more. She put two and two together, and inspected Grant closely. "A point to Ravenclaw, Mr Page," she said, before striding away.

Grant breathed a sigh of relief as she left. Duncan simply looked excited.

Alex took a chance. She glanced at Grant and sent a wink his way. "You're welcome," she said cheekily.

Grant rolled his eyes in response, but the corner of his mouth was definitely lifted in amusement.

Maybe life at Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

October 31st was a special day for Alex. It was the day her old life ended, and the day her new one began. According to the midwife, she had been born at 12am on the dot, just as the 30th became the 31st. Her parents joked that that was how they knew she was a witch.

Halloween at Hogwarts was purely magnificent. Granted, she never really celebrated it in any way, since it was one of the busiest days of the year for her parents (there was always that one group of wrongdoers who used the costumes to disguise themselves as they wreaked havoc, and people of all ages really craved ice cream and other sweets at that time). Instead, they celebrated her birthday on the 30th. Still, one couldn't help but appreciate the live, if conjured, bats diving between, over and under the orange streamers decorating the Great Hall. Even the sky overhead was appropriately spooky, covered in thick clouds which parted just enough to reveal the full moon shining above.

Keeping the day in mind, Alex made an effort to arrive early to dinner for once. It paid off, too. The moments the heavy doors parted, revealing a dimly lit hall illuminated only by several jack-o-lanterns. As the first round of students entered, the torches and streamers on the walls glowed a vibrant orange, lighting up the hall eerily.

Excited chatter arose from the students as they settled into their seats and dug in. In addition to the typical candy corn and other sweets, the house elves had included sausages which looked like dirty disjointed fingers, mashed potatoes piled up into semblances of white ghosts with peas as eyes, as well as pies with extra stretches of pastry emerging from the centre like the spindly legs of a spider. Alex was pretty sure she saw someone frothing at the mouth at the sight of it all.

Alex swallowed another spoonful of pumpkin soup as she scratched Spitfire between the ears. She had taken to carrying him around ever since she noticed people eying her black cat oddly. Even now she spied the occasional glance her way, so it was probably best if she left now before anyone decided to point a hex her way. Wizards and their superstitions…

She didn't mind too much. The novelty of the feast grew a little duller the longer she stayed, and there was far too much sugar on the plates before her for her tastes. Also, Spitfire needed his own dinner.

Throwing back the last dregs of pumpkin juice, Alex nicked an over-sized rainbow lollipop before standing. She threw a look towards Duncan and Grant, wondering if she should say goodbye, but they were busy gorging themselves and squee-ing ecstatically with their friends.

She had just taken a step when a chilling voice behind her said, "Leaving so soon?"

Her bemusement heightened to bewilderment as she locked eyes with the iconic Slytherin ghost. The Bloody Baron watched her, his solemn eyes tinged with curiosity. They had the attention of everyone within a three metre radius of them. To her knowledge, the Baron _never_ spoke to the students, let alone a nobody like her.

"Um, yes," she stammered. It was one thing being addressed by Sir Nicholas, but the Bloody Baron? He wasn't someone she ever wanted to encounter in an isolated hallway.

The Baron followed her in lowering his voice. "Did you know, Miss Fortescue"—because of course he knew her name—"that Halloween is a night wherein the rift between the living and the dead is less…stable?"

"It doesn't surprise me," she said carefully.

"I see." He looked at her imploringly, his transparent eyes containing a warning she had yet to decipher. "Take care, then." At her nod, he sunk into the ground, as if he had never appeared in the first place.

But he had. And the wide-eyed stares and curious, sharp gazes stabbing into her were proof of that. Alex walked quickly out of the Great Hall, wishing with every fibre in her being that she had the ability to sink away, too.

The tension in her shoulders began to seep away once she could no longer see nor hear the Great Hall. She patted Spitfire, glad she brought him along with her. Pets were the best form of stress-relief.

They were also good foe-glasses. As such, when Spitfire grew still, so did Alex.

They approached her silently. That was only natural, as ghosts could remain as silent as death when they wanted to. From the ceiling, the floor, the walls, they floated towards her with unnerving tenacity. Spitfire hissed a warning at them, but the ethereal beings paid him no mind as they continued to close in on her. Her cat leapt out of her arms and ran down the nearest corridor, leaving Alex frozen in the middle of the hallway.

Goosebumps prickled against her robes. The torches stuck to the walls had shifted from warm orange to an icy blue the moment the ghosts appeared. She had learned in school – muggle school, not magical, because there was no room for menial things such as science here – that blue flames were meant to be much hotter than normal flames, but she supposed normalcy and logic was thrown out the window when the undead were involved.

She made an aborted movement to the left, but there was no use: they were definitely surrounding her now. "What do you want?" she spat, shivering as they drifted closer.

"You smell like death," murmured a portly ghost. His mouth was stained with what she hoped was berry juice, or even mud. She didn't want to think about the gorier alternative. "How are you alive?"

Fear clawed at her throat. Something told her it was wise to keep quiet about her rebirth. Alex searched for an escape, but the ghosts were locked around her in a perfect circle. Aside from the one who had spoken, there were a few nuns, a highwayman on a very still horse, a ragged man in chains, and a young woman with a knife jammed into her chest, right where her heart would be.

"Tell us!" she screeched, making the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. "I was killed before I could properly live! Help me!"

Alex's heart pounded furiously in her chest. They were just ghosts, right? They couldn't touch her – couldn't hurt her. Emboldened, Alex made an attempt to break free by running through the ghost. She threw her arm forward, as if to push a physical body away. Rather than feeling the familiar coldness, though, they _burned_. She retreated with a hiss, her left hand gingerly supporting her burnt right. Even though there was no visible evidence of what just happened, she could still feel the simmering heat beneath her skin.

The ghosts used this newfound information to their advantage. They closed in on her, either pleading or threatening her to help them, their moans and screams the only things she could hear. Unable to do anything else, Alex crouched down, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her head in them. Maybe if she pretended they weren't there, they would leave her alone.

The first of the ghosts had just begun to reach out for her, when a clear voice demanded, "What's going on?"

Alex looked up. The circle of ghosts parted slightly as they turned to check out the interruption.

 _There!_ Her chance!

Desperation boosted her as she dove through the slight opening, paying little mind to the way her sides seared when she grazed the ghosts. They were on her tail in a second, but hesitated when she threw herself in a heap next to the boy who had intervened.

He was a brunette decked out in Hufflepuff robes, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Despite his uncertainty, though, he still kept his wand pointed at the group of ghosts glaring at them. "Leave," he said calmly, his voice quivering only slightly. "While it's true ghosts are impervious to numerous spells, I know a few that _can_ affect you."

It was funny, in a way, watching the ghosts hesitate before a pre-teen. Then again, it was probably the weapon he held in his hand that stilled them. The rotund ghost, perhaps their leader, clicked his tongue and shot Alex one last look before skulking away. The others followed, vanishing as if they never existed in the first place.

Maybe it was the candy overdose, but Alex felt like throwing up. Before she could up-chuck her recent dinner, a familiar black cat dove onto her lap. Spitfire nuzzled her arm, purring up a storm as Alex automatically stroked him.

"Smart cat, she is," said the boy. "Wouldn't stop clawing and biting me until I followed her."

Alex took a deep breath, her panic abating as she sighed. "Spitfire's a boy," she corrected absently, scratching said cat's head. "And a bloody smart one, too."

"I'm Cedric," he said. "Cedric Diggory. Are you all right?"

Cedric Diggory? Why…did that name sound so familiar? Alex hid her frown as she rose, scooping Spitfire in her arms as she did so. "I'm okay. My name's Alexandra Fortescue. Thank you," she added lowly, "for helping me."

"You're welcome," he said kindly. "If you don't mind, can I ask what was happening?"

Alex hugged Spitfire close, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't know. But I'm glad you came when you did. I'm surprised you weren't at the Halloween Feast, though."

"I was actually on my way there," he admitted, smiling sheepishly. "Thought I'd take a quick nap after class, and the next thing I know, dinner's already started."

"Naps are evil," she agreed. She was forced to elaborate when Cedric gave her an odd look. "When I woke after my first nap, I thought I'd slept through the entire day and got ready for school. I was almost out the door when my dad was asking what I was doing." She sighed. "It turned out it was still the same evening. He couldn't stop laughing." Jerk.

So was Cedric, judging by the way he was grinning. Alex tried to give him a flat look, but his joy was contagious, and she couldn't help but crack a smile herself.

She recalled Cedric's words from before, an intrigued expression blooming on her face. "You said you knew some spells against ghosts, right? Can you tell me some?"

"Oh, sure," he said, surprised. "But, ah, I am a tad hungry…"

She grimaced. While food was indeed of the utmost importance, she didn't fancy returning to the Great Hall tonight. She smirked as an idea struck her. "Have you ever been to the kitchens?"

* * *

Intrigued, Cedric admitted that he hadn't ever been to the kitchens before, and a mischievous look appeared in her eyes before she led the way. They chatted as they walked, discussing the charms and jinxes he knew that were effective in dealing with ghosts. Unfortunately, he didn't know any exorcism spells – did those even exist? – but he knew a few which were unpleasant to the incorporeal beings, whether harmful or simple repellents.

"Like bug spray," she noted, amused. Cedric didn't know what bug spray was, but he smiled nonetheless.

She looked nicer when she was in a good mood, he decided. Less sharp. He had caught sight of her when she was surrounded by her housemates. She never smiled around them. Other than that, and the fact that she was one of the first years whom the Sorting Hat took the longest to deal with, Cedric knew very little of Alexandra Fortescue.

"You're oddly pleasant," he admitted.

Alexandra arched an eyebrow. "You sure know how to compliment someone," she said dryly.

Cedric flushed. "No, no, it's just…" He rubbed the nape of his neck. "My experiences with Slytherins aren't the best." _That_ was putting it lightly. Though their rivalry wasn't nearly as bad as it was between the Snakes and the Lions, the Badgers were constantly snubbed and dismissed. It was depressing.

"I'll bet," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Huh, not exactly the embodiment of house pride, was she? "A word of advice: don't generalise. Not all Slytherins are bad, not all Gryffindors are good, not all Ravenclaws are smart, and…" She glanced at him. "Not all Hufflepuffs are fodder."

Cedric eyed her curiously. "Definitely odd," he joked.

Alexandra let out a laugh and, judging by her surprised expression, it wasn't intentional. Cedric puffed up with pride. He got the feeling she didn't laugh much.

"This is it," she said, halting before a painting of a bowl of fruit.

Cedric eyed it in confusion. "This is what?" He passed this painting every day, as did the rest of the Hufflepuffs, as they exited their common room and headed off for the day.

"The entrance to the kitchens."

"Through…the painting?"

"Well, you're almost right," she allowed, bringing her arm to the painting of the bowl of fruit. She began to tickle the pear. "It's not like the entrance to Platform 9 ¾ though. It's more like a door."

The second-year flinched as the pear began to giggle. That was eerie. Fruit shouldn't be allowed to make those noises, two-dimensional or no. The green fruit morphed into a tangible door knob before his very eyes, and yeah, it was very door-like.

Alex pulled it outwards, allowing Cedric to stay in the centre as the kitchen came into view. "Welcome to Hogwarts's kitchen," she greeted, smirking slightly as the dumbfounded expression undoubtedly planted on his face.

He recovered quickly, murmuring a quiet, "Neat" as he soaked in the place. There were dozens of house-elves running about, and only a few of them empty-handed for the moment. One of the latter scurried over to them, clothed in several tea towels tied together.

"Hi, Kippy," Alexandra said kindly. "Are you busy?"

Kippy the elf shook her head furiously, causing her ears to flap about. "Never too busy for Miss Fortescue!"

"You're sweet," she said, smiling. "This is Cedric Diggory. Do you mind grabbing some food for us?"

Kippy glanced at Cedric curiously, but hastily avoided his gaze when he nodded in greeting. She focused her attention on Alexandra instead. "Yes, Miss," it agreed, before bustling away.

"Was that your elf?" Cedric asked, as they searched for a seat. There were four long tables to the side, resembling the house tables in the Great Hall, but Alexandra steered away from them.

"No. Why?"

"Oh. You just seemed very close."

Alexandra tilted her head in bemusement. "Close? How?"

Cedric thought about how to arrange his answer as they settled onto a couple of stools placed before a counter. "Most wizards and witches aren't nearly as friendly towards house-elves as you, especially to ones they don't own."

"That seems a bit sad," she said, tugging at her earlobes. Cedric briefly wondered if she had piercings, but when she pulled her hand away, her ear was undecorated. "They slave over the kitchens, the bathrooms, the laundry rooms for us and yet most of them are treated as if they can't think or feel for themselves. It's not right."

Kippy chose that moment to arrive, holding up a heaping plate of food over her wrinkly head. She wasn't alone, as two more elves arrived, each bearing a similarly large plate of different food – or should he say sweets? Halloween was the _best_.

To be frank, Cedric was tempted to argue back with Alexandra. He wanted to tell her how house-elves were fine with their treatment, especially his grandparents', as the Diggorys were much kinder than other wizarding families. However, his words died in his throat when he noted the way the elves flocked shyly yet eagerly towards Alexandra, who was smiling at them as if they were a litter of puppies.

The elves only stayed for several seconds. Before they passed him, Cedric smiled politely and said, "Thank you." They bowed, flustered, and hurried off.

Alexandra said nothing, but a pleased smile was stretching across her face. "So, Cedric, you're probably wondering why we aren't sitting at those infinitely comfier tables. Well, they're actually charmed to correspond with the house tables up above in the Great Hall, and…"

It was one of the most interesting dinners Cedric had had in a while.


	5. Badgering Badgers

**A/N:** You know, I used to get really apprehensive about reading reviews, but you guys are so sweet and kind and supportive! Thank you so much.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Five

 _Badgering badgers_

Befriending Cedric Diggory was, well, a bit worrying.

When their dinner ended, the elves provided them with even _more_ sweets. As they laid their eyes on the goblet full of pumpkin pasties, Alex suddenly remembered why Cedric was so familiar to her.

He was the boy who died at the Triwizard Tournament – the martyr who helped convince the school that Voldemort was, indeed, back.

Alex left the sweets untouched.

When Cedric asked her why she wasn't having any, she brushed him off by claiming she didn't have much of a sweet tooth. Well, it would've been more accurate to say she didn't have much of an appetite at the moment. And how could she? Her dinner mate was destined to die in around five years' time. Unless she prevented it.

Oh, and wasn't that another issue altogether? With great power came great responsibility, she knew, but Cedric's death was significant for the war in and of itself. How different would things be were she to prevent it?

Dear Merlin, she was turning into Dumbledore.

Feeling queasy, Alex quickly pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She had a few years yet to deal with _that_.

Of course, Cedric's prevalent presence threw a spanner in the works. You'd think you wouldn't often see someone from a different year level, but it was almost like Cedric was seeking her out. Or someone up there was basking in her misfortune. Whichever.

Alex could've gotten rid of him. A few harsh words, maybe a jinx or two, and Cedric would learn to steer clear of her. But she enjoyed being around him. He was a step up from Grant and Duncan in terms of maturity—but only slightly—and it was surprisingly easy to talk to him. A Hufflepuff through and through.

"I never did thank you, did I?" she asked, prying her eyes from the Great Lake. It was the middle of the day, and the water was sparkling so prettily she was almost tempted to dip her toes in. She would've, too, if she hadn't known what was lurking beneath its surface.

Cedric was leaning back, his hands flat against the green grass as he eyed her curiously. "For what? Accompanying you out here?"

She scoffed, amused. "You did that yourself," she noted wryly. That wasn't necessarily true; sure, he had spotted her, walked over and asked if he could sit, but she still acquiesced, mildly surprised and rather pleased. "No, I meant for not telling anyone about what happened on Halloween."

"Oh, that?" Cedric thumbed his nose. "I actually forgot all about that."

"Cedric?"

"Yes?"

"You're a terrible liar."

Cedric laughed aloud. He sobered a few moments later. "They haven't been bothering you, have they?" he asked apprehensively.

Why _was_ he so worried, though? This went above and beyond casual caution. Maybe he was naturally nurturing? She was his underclassman, if only technically. That would also explain why he accompanied her whenever he ran into her; he'd come and sit next to her in the library, the kitchen, and random spots throughout the castle and its grounds. A small, lonely first year was quite pitiful, wasn't it? Especially when the first encounter was one which involved bullying, essentially.

"Not particularly," she answered. "I find them glancing at me at times, with a touch of hostility too, but they never try to come close." Perhaps the Baron had chewed them out? After that incident, she began to notice him and the other house ghosts much more. Had Sir Nicholas spilled and revealed her secret to them? Gryffindors were infamous of their tact, or lack of, after all.

Cedric ran a hand through the tufts of grass. "May I ask why they were behaving like that?"

Alex made sure to screw up her features into a look of bemusement. She had plenty of practise moulding her expressions over the years. "They never said. But it seems like it'll only happen on Halloween." She rolled her eyes. "I'm not looking forward to next year's."

"You have the spells I taught you."

"True," she said easily, even if she doubted they would be as potent on such an eerie night. "How'd you find them?"

"Oh, my aunt is researching on how to exorcise ghosts," he said proudly. "Her husband—awful fellow, my uncle—was trying to hustle a couple of Dark wizards and witches, and was killed because of it. Of course, he was always afraid of death, even though he pulled ridiculous stunts like that all the time, so he became a ghost. He regrets it. Being a ghost can be dreadfully dull."

Alex nodded. "And so your aunt feels bad for him and is trying to end his suffering by discovering a method of exorcism?"

"No, she finds him annoying and wants to get rid of him."

Alex laughed long and hard. "Wise woman," she choked out.

They continued chatting until the sun set, whereupon they headed to the Great Hall for dinner. Alex was in a good mood, so she actually attended this time. She felt lighter than she had in weeks. Granted, as soon as she was conscious of that, she grew grave.

Alex made a decision then and there. She would protect Cedric Diggory's smile no matter what – even if she had to face the Dark Lord himself.

* * *

Before she even thought of fighting Voldemort, though, Alex was busy trying to defend herself from her own schoolmates. The more she and Cedric hung out with each other, the more she found herself being used as target practice by Hufflepuffs. Whoever said they were the marshmallow house were dead wrong, because their jinxes were _nasty._

It started with a few distrustful stares and some muttered insults. It was a little nostalgic, actually. When the schoolyard bullies (because that was what they were. Honestly, wizards and witches thought they were so above muggles, and yet…) realised it had little effect on her, judging by the lack of acknowledgement she provided them, they upped things up and started using their wands instead of their words.

But they were her age – the oldest couldn't have been over thirteen. More so, they were Hufflepuffs, and so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, say, if they were Slytherins instead. There were a few tripping jinxes here and there, but Alex either dove out of the way, or simply rolled with it when she was hit. In the meantime, it was a great motivator for getting her to learn the Shield Charm.

This morning was one of those occasions where she managed to get to class unbothered. Alex settled into her usual seat at the back of the Transfiguration classroom, preparing for class. By the time she was done, Duncan and Grant had arrived. They shared a meaningful look between each other before glancing at her.

"What's going on with you and the Hufflepuffs?" Grant said bluntly. Well, at least he didn't beat around the bush.

"Are you all right, Alex?" asked a much more careful Duncan.

Alex kept her demeanor as casual as possible. "The Hufflepuffs aren't too pleased with the fact that a Slytherin is hanging around one of their own," she said wryly. "Which is pretty ironic, considering they're prized for their loyalty."

Duncan looked horrified. "You're being bullied?" he hissed.

"Seriously?" sniggered an unfamiliar voice. "A Slytherin bullied by a Hufflepuff? Merlin, Fortescue, you put our House to shame."

Alex instinctively scowled at the condescending tone before schooling her features into cool puzzlement. "Sorry, who are you?" she asked, genuinely clueless.

Her Housemate was turning a lovely shade of red. "I'm Yatin Bhagat, _halfie_. Remember my name and learn your place."

"Yatin Bhagat Halfie?" she repeated innocently. "That's a bit of a mouthful." She purposefully misconstrued the way he was practically trembling with rage. "It's okay, though, I don't mind what your name is. After all, I'm not the type of ignorant bigot who discriminates people based on circumstances they can't help."

Before Bhagat could reply – with a slew of swears and slurs, no doubt – Agatha nudged him with her elbow. "Careful, Yatin. Remember Halloween? Who knows what influence she has on the Baron," she murmured. The blonde shot Alex a mildly frightened look over her shoulder.

"Oh, please," scoffed Bhagat. "No one could even hear what they were saying. For all we know, he could have been threatening _her_."

"I'm not sure that was it," whispered the quiet girl on his other side. Judging by her dark hair, Alex guessed it was Katherine. She didn't bother turning to look at Alex like her friends did.

Bhagat looked like he still had something to say, but he was interrupted by Professor McGonagall's entrance. He settled for one dirty look at Alex before facing the class once more.

Duncan and Grant shot her looks, too, but theirs was tinged with concern rather than anger. Alex gave them a small smile in return, all the while thinking that, even though they must have witnessed the Hufflepuffs harassing her, they had done nothing to help.

* * *

It was lunchtime, and she _still_ hadn't been bothered by the Hufflepuffs. That gave her that extra boost of confidence she needed as she entered the Great Hall and, spotting Cedric, sat next to him at the Hufflepuff table.

Nearby conversations stopped. Cedric's eyes were wide with surprise, but his lips were slowly twitching into a smile. "What're you doing here, Alex?" he asked.

"Yeah," grunted a girl on the other side of the yellow-bannered table. "What're you doin' here, _snake_?"

"Grabbing lunch," Alex replied, snagging a few sandwiches. "I love food," she said gravely. It was a good thing Hogwarts was so large, because it kept Alex moving almost constantly. Without the exercise, there was no doubt she'd double in size by the time the year ended. She wouldn't be able to dodge all the spells thrown her way if that happened.

Cedric nodded. "That's a good motto." Despite his easy-going demeanour, Alex noticed the subtle stiffening of his spine as well as the clenching of his fists as his eyes darted around the table. Ah, so he had noticed the hostility from the majority of the Hufflepuffs, too.

"I was thinking about getting it tattooed on me," she continued, taking a bite of her tuna salad sandwich.

"I _meant_ ," the girl continued, "what're you doin' here? Go back to your nest."

"Unfortunately," she said, swallowing, "I managed to tick one of my Housemates off, so I thought it best to stay as far away from them as possible today. I could've sat with my Ravenclaw friends, but that table is too close to the Slytherins'. I don't have any Gryffindor pals"—not yet—"so Hufflepuff was my only option. Right, Cedric?"

Cedric wasn't even fazed. "Sure," he answered immediately, perhaps used to her oddness. Very adaptable, that boy was.

"Cedric," whined a boy on his other side. "Why are you defending her?"

"Because she's my friend."

Alex brought a hand to her mouth, smothering the wide smile threatening to bloom.

"On that note," she continued, moving onto the next sandwich, "what would you do if you saw your friend being bullied?"

Cedric's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I'd help that friend and call out the ones doing the bullying."

"And if the bullies were also your friends?" Alex flicked her eyes towards the nervous students around her before staring Cedric dead in the eye. "What then?"

"I'd…do the same thing, but much more intensely."

Alex's smile shined like artificial light. "Great," she said brightly. "Mind passing me an apple?"

The 'Puffs were grateful for the change in topic, judging by the way their bodies loosened and their small, almost silent, sighs. Cedric's friends spoke to him normally, ignoring Alex all the while. But that was to be expected.

What was unexpected was how frequently Cedric ended the conversation pre-emptively, and instead tried to spark a conversation with her. When his friends doubled their efforts to engage him, he tried creating an opening for her so she, too, could be included. Alex was touched, but didn't reciprocate the effort; the Hufflepuffs were looking like they wanted to hex her then and there the way things were progressing. That didn't seem to stop Cedric, though.

Lunch couldn't have ended any quicker. Alex wanted to do nothing more than to dash right out of the Great Hall, but she forced herself to walk at her usual pace. She waved goodbye to Cedric, who gazed at her speculatively as his friends ushered him to class.

That was a rather risky play. Cedric's buds could have easily turned on him, and then where would they be? But no, Alex had faith in him. The Goblet of Fire had chosen—would choose?—him for a reason.

Alex forced herself to head to the dungeons for her next class. Some doofus paired the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs this year for Potions, which was a recipe for disaster. While Snape—she refused to call the petulant adult 'Professor' in the privacy of her own mind—behaved decently to the Slytherin half of the class, the same thing could not be said about the Hufflepuffs. He seemed to share the Slytherin sentiment that Hufflepuff students were basically all sugar and no spice.

Snape swept into the room just as the last of the students filed in. Alex forced herself not to roll her eyes at the dramatics. Slytherin or not, he would not take kindly to mockery, despite his penchant for tormenting his students himself.

"We'll be brewing the herbicide potion today," he drawled without preamble. "Anyone with half a brain can deduce that it is used to damage and kill all sorts of plants. Can anyone tell me why this is needed?"

The class shuffled awkwardly, either oblivious to the reason or too shy to answer. Snape would be more likely to bite someone's head off for answering incorrectly than smiling at a student's correct reply. Then again, it was unlikely that they had ever worked in a garden, much less actually use the herbicide potion.

Alex wanted to sigh at her class's recalcitrance. She raised a hand, and when Snape nodded in her direction, she said, "The potion would be useful for the removal of unwanted plants such as weeds."

"Well done, Miss Fortescue," Snape replied with all the enthusiasm of a dying man. "A point to Slytherin for being the only one in this entire class to answer."

People glanced her way, either approving or envious. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't clear cut which house was feeling what. Right, right; people were people, and not generalisations. That wasn't going to stop her from watching her back, though.

Snape continued. "You'll be using your brewed herbicide potion for your next Herbology class. You'll be tending to Spiky Bushes, I believe?" Several students nodded despite the rhetorical nature of the question. Snape's lip curled. "Succeed with your brewing, and they'll be simple to get rid of. Fail, and, well, let's hope Professor Flitwick has taught you all the Fire-Making Spell."

Alex heard more than one person swallow nervously. Snape seemed to revel in their fear, for his smarmy smirk grew a little. She glared down at her cauldron furiously. Their chances of success would be much higher if their professor stopped acting like an overgrown bat and ceased flitting through the classroom, hovering over the shoulders of students as they anxiously stirred and adjusted their concoctions.

But it seemed today was not the day. The only silver lining Alex could find was that Snape focussed on harassing the Hufflepuffs much more than the Slytherins. Once her partner Katherine had gathered all her ingredients, Alex started on prepping them before cooking them in the saucepan- uh, cauldron. Right.

Class progressed peacefully, despite the occasional whimper from an uncertain student. In fact, it was far too peaceful, considering who was in attendance. Alex could feel the scowls on her without even bothering to turn around. It seemed the badgers hadnt taken too kindly to her little display during lunch.

And then it happened. She saw it from the corner of her eye – a flash of something as it flew in the air, and straight towards her cauldron. Unfortunately, Alex lacked the precious Seeker skills her house sorely desired, and the—lionfish spine?—was quickly sinking to the bottom of her cauldron.

Nothing happened at first. Since the lionfish was already part of the potion before this new addition, perhaps it would have no effect. Just as the thought flashed through her mind, however, the previously milky liquid began to bubble furiously before turning a violent shade of violet.

Snape appeared before Alex could even say "Professor". He snatched some leftover ingredients on their table, threw them into the cauldron and stirred counter-clockwise once, twice, until the potion returned to its former state.

Snape might have been a bit of a twat, but she couldn't deny his sheer skill as a Potions Master. And if she was looking at him with slight awe in her eyes, that was quickly quashed by his deadly glare.

"What happened?" he demanded. Katherine was gazing anywhere but in his direction, so naturally his eyes fell onto Alex. "Well, Miss Fortescue?"

Alex flicked her eyes around the classroom, before coming to a decisive stop ahead and to the slight left of her. "Someone threw an extra lionfish spine, sir – from that direction." Also known as the direction of the Hufflepuffs.

She could have lied, but there would've been no point. Snape was smart and intuitive, and it would take a liar much more skilled than her to deceive him, Legilimency or not.

Snape glided over to them, focusing those who were trying way too hard to look innocent. "I see," he said softly, dangerously. He grabbed one of the Hufflepuffs' hourglass and turned it over. "I'll give you all one chance to confess the identity of the culprit. If, by the time the last grain of sand has fallen, no one confesses, then you will all be facing detention – and a loss of ten points _each_."

Soft gasps and amused snickers pierced the air. There were at least eight Hufflepuffs, which meant a loss of eighty points in a single moment. The House of Badgers may have been generalised as the kindest and least competitive, but even they wouldn't take it too well if they learnt their entire first-year class caused such a setback. Not to mention, any detention assigned by Snape was bound to be terrifying. Terrifying enough to act as veritaserum, apparently.

Half of the sand in the hourglass had barely trickled out when someone squealed. "Stebbins did it!"

"Tristan Stebbins," said Snape. He peered down at the blonde Hufflepuff boy. "It seems your potion is coming along nicely."

Whatever the class was expecting, that wasn't it. They were baffled, as was she, but Alex could spy a knowing glint in Katherine's eyes.

"How fortunate," continued Snape. Despite his words, he didn't look pleased at all. "Since your _prank_ rendered Miss Fortescue's and Miss Doge's potion practically useless, I think it's fair that you exchange potions."

" _What_ —?"

"A detention as well, it seems," he added. "Friday night. Straight after dinner."

Stebbins had enough tact left to keep his mouth shut. That didn't stop him from glaring balefully at Snape, however, as he grabbed a pair of flasks and poured his concoction into the one named Fortescue and Doge **.** The one marked "Stebbins" was completely empty.

Katherine looked pleased. As Slytherins went, she wasn't a bad companion to have. Then again, "companion" was stretching it a bit, since they were only paired up because they were the leftovers in the class. The twins were paired up, as well as the two first-year boys in Slytherin. What were their names again? She'd try to remember next time.

Bhagat and Agatha were seated on a desk close to Katherine, smirking at the Hufflepuff's failure. They were closer friends than either of them were with Katherine, and had chosen each other as their Potion partners. More than once did Alex wonder if Katherine ever felt left out.

But there were more pressing matters to contemplate. Why on earth was Stebbins so opposed to her existence? She hadn't done anything to offend him, had she? Unless he took his Hufflepuff loyalty spiel too far, and latched onto the second years' disdain for her and her friendship with Cedric. Maybe she should start a petition to change Hufflepuff's symbol from badger to sheep.

Alex checked her watch and sighed when she registered the time. There were still ten minutes of Potions left. Since she was technically done, she was allowed a little free time, right? Alex flipped to the next chapter of her textbook and began to read, allowing the rest of the world to slip away for just a moment.

The moment was quelled by the chime of a bell, signalling the end of class. Students rushed to pack their equipment away and rush out of the cold, dim classroom. Alex had only tucked her stool beneath the table when Snape's voice rose over the din of hasty students.

"Miss Fortescue," he drawled. "Stay back. I require a word with you."

 _Just one?_

She could feel the curious gazes on her back as the others left. Alex simply nodded and headed towards her Head of House's desk.

Snape finally looked up when the door clicked shut. His eyes held hers solidly, but Alex was prepared for the possibility of Legilimency, so she focused on her complicated relationship with the Hufflepuffs, which was most likely what he wanted to speak to her about.

The grave man laced his fingers together before his face. "What is your quarrel with the Hufflepuffs, Miss Fortescue?" he asked.

Alex couldn't help but scowl, and she redirected her irritated gaze to the floor. "They don't approve of my friendship with one of them. Apparently, Slytherins aren't to be trusted."

"I see. I assume what happened in today's lesson isn't a one-time incident?"

"No, sir. They tend to use me as spell practice."

Snape's lips pressed together into a firm line. "Do you fight back?"

Alex looked up in surprise before focusing her eyes on the crown of his greasy, greasy head. "No, sir. I dodge."

Snape nodded in…approval? No way. "Retaliation can be used against you, Miss Fortescue, keep that in mind. I daresay few would side with a Slytherin if a few Hufflepuffs claimed you cast the first spell. You can't keep dodging forever, however. You need to put an end to this. The reputation of our House is at stake as well."

Indignation flared within her. She stood up straighter, careless of who she was now directing her anger towards. This bastard was supposed to be a professor – and her Head of House, no less. Shouldn't it be _his_ job to deal with bullying?

Instead of reacting to her visible offense, though, Snape remained infuriatingly tranquil, allowing her to calm down just a tad. A moment of clarity pierced through the haze, and Alex was forced to address the situation from a Slytherin point of view. Snape couldn't help her without damaging both the reputation of the House as well as her own. The other snakes wouldn't be too impressed if she went running to the nearest authority figure instead of sorting things out herself. It didn't matter that she was a first year fighting against students older than her and with greater numbers. Wizards were stupid like that.

"Yes, sir," she finally replied, a taut frown on her lips. Part of her wanted to ask Snape what, exactly, she should do, but she had a feeling he would tell her to shove off and figure it out herself. He seemed like the type.

"That is all, then," dismissed Snape, handing her a slip that probably explained her tardiness for her next class. "You may leave."


	6. A Deal with the Devil

**A/N:** Thanks for your review, Guest! The Fortescues don't live in Diagon Alley; some merchants might, but I don't think that would be the best place to raise a kid. Not to mention it'd be pretty expensive.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Six

 _A Deal with the Devil_

The Room of Requirement was one of the most amazing places in Hogwarts, if not magical Britain itself. Just by walking past the invisible room on the seventh floor thrice, almost anything the person in question desired would be granted. After having been pelted by dungbombs thanks to a cackling Peeves, and then immediately jinxed and hexed by a few giggling Hufflepuffs, Alex had run off to the location Professor Galing had mentioned to her a while back.

 _I need somewhere safe,_ she had thought as she paced back and forth. _Somewhere relaxing._

Once she walked past it three times, part of the wall melted away, revealing a door that practically glowed with magic. It drew her in like a moth to a flame.

Alex gasped when she saw the interior of the room. It was her bedroom. The Room of Requirement had recreated her home out of thin air.

She practically collapsed into her bed, not moving for several moments. Maybe she could just lie here forever… No, wait, this haven wasn't complete without Spitfire. Her pet preferred to roam around the grounds on his lonesome, and was slowly becoming independent, hunting for his own meals and no longer using his litterbox as often. Her son was growing up.

"Ugh," she groaned aloud. Alright, that was enough of that. Alex forced herself up and out of bed, if only to get rid of the stink of dungbombs that was clinging onto her with the desperateness of an possessive child. _Scourgify_ could only do so much.

She spent more time than necessary in the shower. When she wasn't furiously scrubbing herself clean, Alex contemplated. She really would prefer to sleep in this conjured bedroom, as opposed to her dorm, since she could slumber as deeply as she wanted here. Here, she didn't have to worry about sleeping with one eye open.

Alex frowned as she stepped out of the joint-bathroom. No, if she stayed here instead of the dorm, they'd get suspicious, and this secret safe house would no longer be so secret. In the meantime, she was here, which allowed her to do whatever she wanted. So she screamed.

There. That was off her chest for now. Unfortunately, while it allowed her to get rid of something—her frustration, her fury, her futility—it attracted something else. Well, someone.

"Everything all right, Miss Fortescue?"

Alex jumped up from the bed, stuffing her hand in the pocket of her robe and fumbling for her wand. She registered the presence before she even grazed the familiar Alder. "Oh, Sir Nicholas," she murmured, sitting down once more. Wait, what? "What are you doing here?" She shot him a bewildered look.

Sir Nicholas drifted away from the wall from which he came and floated closer to her. "Well, when one hears screaming, they are naturally concerned about its source."

 _Not everyone_ , she thought bitterly, well aware of those who would simply continue on their way unbothered. "It was just me," she confessed with a sigh. "Lamenting."

"About Halloween?" Sir Nicholas asked tentatively.

"You know?" she asked, surprised. And suspicious. "How?"

"I overheard the gripes of the ghosts—no, _ghouls—_ who tried to attack you." Anger tore through Sir Nicholas's features, and Alex could have sworn the temperature dropped momentarily. "Honestly, attacking a student – and a first year, no less!" he grumbled. "Why, the headmaster would be furious if he knew!"

Dumbledore didn't know, which meant none of the staff knew. So far so good.

Alex twirled her wand in her hand. "Who _does_ know?"

"The House ghosts. Let me tell you, the Friar was exceedingly shocked when we told him about your unusual state," chuckled Sir Nicholas. He elaborated when he noticed her nonplussed expression. "It was the Baron who called the ghosts' council together on the same night you were attacked, you see. He deduced your encounter with death, as well as the danger you faced, so we house ghosts collectively decided to keep the others from harming you further."

Her wand fell right out of her hand. Alex gaped openly at Sir Nicholas, her eyes the size of dinner plates. "Why?" she eventually squeaked out. "Why go so far for- for a nobody?"

Sir Nicholas almost looked affronted. "My dear," he said sternly, "you are an anomaly. Only the greats can surpass Death itself. For all we know, you could become one of the most powerful witches alive."

Alex couldn't help but make a face at that. After all, she could barely turn a little leaf into a sheet of parchment without outside help.

"I thought ghosts didn't interfere with the world of the living," she argued feebly.

"Since it is fellow ghosts we're keeping an eye on, it is technically a case within our domain," countered Sir Nicholas, a triumphant sort of air about him. It dissipated, giving way to something more grave and ominous. "Besides, we aren't too sure what you should be considered as. You're not a ghost, yet you're not a normal human. You're something different, Miss Fortescue."

Groaning, Alex picked up her fallen wand. "Don't I know it," she muttered. She brightened as an idea struck her. "Sir Nicholas, do you know where I can find Peeves?"

Sir Nicholas rolled his eyes – a sight she never thought she would see from a ghost. "Oh, I'm sure he's off mucking about somewhere in the castle. Why would you ever wish to purposely seek him out?"

She smiled. "For revenge."

* * *

"And why should I help you, ickle little firstie?" mocked Peeves.

Alex eyed the poltergeist hovering above her. Though he was unarmed, having just unloaded his recent batch of chalk powder on some unsuspecting Ravenclaw, she couldn't help but grip her wand for protection.

Though Sir Nicholas was uncertain about her intentions at first, a quick run-down of the situation eventually convinced him to help her out. He drifted through the castle in search of Peeves and, upon finding him, somehow managed to persuade him to stay put until Alex reached him. She supposed the only reason he listened was due to his curiosity, and not a sudden bout of obedience.

"You're turning down an opportunity to prank some students?" she asked, feigning surprise. "Guilty students at that."

Peeves drifted around her lazily, much like a portly, ghostly tiger. "And what do I get out of this? _Besides_ being able to prank people."

"What do you want?"

With a burst of speed she didn't know he had in him, Peeves zoomed up to her. He was so close that she could even see through his transparent eyes. "I want to know your secret," he whispered loud enough for the whole corridor to hear.

Fortunately, the area around them was deserted. After the Ravenclaw ran away screaming—though why, she didn't know. It was just chalk dust, right?—any sane student knew better than to approach. It was a shame Alex's sanity vanished long ago.

"Secret?" she echoed coolly. "I'm a pre-pubescent; I have many secrets."

Peeves cackled, undeterred from her deflection. "Oh, we both know what we mean, now don't we, little miss zombie?"

Of course he would know. Ruddy ghosts. Alex forced herself to roll her eyes. "I'm not exactly stumbling around in search of brains." She sighed, her act slipping. "Alright, I'll tell you – but only if you make sure no one bullies me again."

"I'll do it for two weeks."

"Two months."

"One. And I want the mouldiest, foulest treacle tart you can find."

Alex tried not to smirk. "Fine. You start now."

Peeves let out a horrid giggle before flying right through her. Shivering, Alex hurried to the kitchens. She had some treacle to scavenge.

It was well worth the tuts and grumbles some of the braver elves directed her way. Whenever someone attempted to throw an unwanted spell her way, she dodged as per usual. But then Peeves retaliated, using his powers to charm several chalk dusters to attack them even as they struggled to run away. This deterred some, but not many. The jinxes and hexes grew more severe, but so did Peeves. He exchanged the dusters for water balloons, and then water balloons filled with colour dye, balloons filled with paint, and the same white substance that she had assumed was chalk dust. Judging by how furiously his victims clawed at themselves, it was itching powder – a vicious one, at that.

November shifted to December, and the attacks—from both sides—slowly but surely stopped. In exchange, though, the rumours and glances directed her way increased. But whatever. She would take those over the attacks any day.

As a bonus, Peeves seemed to leave her be after she paid him his due. The rotten, retched treacle and her not-so-secret secret satisfied him immensely, and Alex wanted to believe that it was his slight, newfound respect for her that kept him away. Or maybe he simply didn't want to be roped up in any more favours.

She felt better than she had in months. Which was why, when Cedric approached her with concern etched in his face, she was thoroughly confused.

"What?" she spluttered, snapping her head up from the textbook she was studying. That essay on the Troll Occupation of 1848 wasn't going to write itself. "What makes you think I'm not okay?"

Instead of answering, Cedric gestured to the seat beside her, silently seeking permission. Impatient, Alex waved her hand in acceptance; it wasn't like anyone else was going to sit there. Cedric was frowning the entire time.

"Alex," he said slowly, as if selecting the right words, "the Hufflepuffs…well, they've been talking."

Alex fought the humourless smile from surfacing on her lips. "What are they saying?" When Cedric began fidgeting with his black and yellow robes, Alex sighed and decided to lend him a hand. "Let me guess. Some diatribe about how I'm a snake ready to strike when you're not looking, and you should watch out and not associate with me?"

Cedric froze, his hand falling to the table with a small _thud_. "You know?" he asked, shocked.

Oh, Cedric. So sweet and unaware. "They're not very discrete," she admitted wryly.

"You don't care?"

And wasn't that the million-dollar question? Part of her, at first, had been hurt by the hate directed so fervently towards her. However, she also hadn't been very surprised. The very implementation of the House system inevitably resulted in a them-vs-us mindset, a trap in which developing children fell into all too easily. As if these wizards and witches needed another reason to discriminate against one another.

Alex shrugged. "Not really," she said casually, flicking lint off her robe. "I don't really care about the opinions of strangers." She knew who she was, so everyone else could kindly piss off.

"What about me?" Cedric said suddenly.

"Um, what about you, Cedric?"

"Would you care about my opinion of you?"

Alex tapped her fingers on the hardwood desk to compensate for the sudden stillness of her body. "It depends on what it is," she said, and there was a surprising lack of emotion in her voice.

She expected Cedric to react badly to her coolness, but he simply smiled. "I think you're nothing like what everyone says."

Heat rushed to her eyes, and Alex was afraid she was going to cry. She placed her head in her hands and took a deep, calming breath. This time, when Cedric's worry caught her attention, she looked up with a small smile and said, "Yeah, I'm okay."

* * *

Christmas at the Fortescues was an odd affair. Her mum had never really celebrated Christmas, since her family was rather conservative and were all about tradition. Tensions were high between Julia and her parents ever since she decided she wanted to forego the traditional—and thus outdated—route of being a stay-at-home mum and respectful housewife and work in law enforcement. Which was why, when she met and married a certain Fortescue while travelling, they had disowned her. It was a bit shocking, to say the least.

Alex was seven when she wondered why she didn't have any grandparents; Dad's parents had perished in the war, and Mum's, well… they were alive, but whether or not that was a good thing was up to debate.

Idly, Alex wondered if her only living grandparents knew she existed.

Though her mum didn't always see eye-to-eye with her parents, her disinterest towards Christmas was too deeply ingrained for her to change. She treated it with little fanfare, providing her daughter with a present as well as helping with the required decorations and nibbles.

Florean, however, absolutely adored Christmas. Alex wondered if he was just compensating for Mum's apathy and her own lacklustre reaction. For the first half of her life, Dad actually dressed as Father Christmas during the fated day. He took over most of the preparation, both in the shop and at home. At the former, he had a miniature Christmas tree set on the counter, as well as ropes of tinsel strewn around the interior. He charmed the shop to constantly smell like either nutmeg or eggnog. "Very Christmas-like," he told her with a wink. And don't even get her started on the seasonal ice cream flavours.

Home was very similar, though their tree almost brushed their ceiling, so great that it was. It wasn't an actual pine tree, thankfully, but one of those plastic ones that were charmed to look somewhat realistic. During the first few Christmases of Alex's life, her parents had used living trees, but they soon grew sick of her grumbles about how ridiculous it was to cut down something so useful and grand for such a silly reason. Who said whining didn't get you places?

A loud crash sounded from the living room. Wincing, Alex hurried down the stairs, hoping the cause of the noise was anything but what she was thinking. Luck wasn't with her, it seemed, as her suspicions were completely founded.

Dad hissed – a sound that was replicated by the little black ball of pain he was wrestling with. "Spitfire, enough! Alex!"

"I'm here, Dad," she said resignedly, hopping off the last step and rushing towards him. "Spitfire, come here," she commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.

Her reluctant cat jumped out of the Christmas tree, neatly avoiding Dad and his stern gaze, and sprinted towards her. Ever the innocent victim, Spitfire weaved in and out of Alex's legs in a plea for sympathy.

"Leave the tree alone," she said sternly. However, her love of cute things overruled her, and she bent down to pluck her cat into her arms.

"He probably just misses the castle," declared Mum, eyes never leaving the book in her lap. She had been there the entire time, dutifully ignoring her husband's futile fight with the small feline. "Compared to Hogwarts, there isn't much to explore here."

Alex frowned down at her purring pet. "Aren't cats meant to laze around all day?"

"A special cat for our special girl," chuckled Dad, seeming to have forgiven and forgotten said cat's poor behaviour.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Dad." Alex absentmindedly stroked Spitfire as she contemplated her next choice of action. She'd been meaning to ask them for a while, had waited and plotted until both her parents were in relatively good and generous moods. "Can I ask for a favour?" she began hesitantly.

This time, Mum actually stopped reading. She placed a scarred finger on the page, keeping her place, as she gazed up. "What is it, Alex?"

Dad paused in his correction of the tinsel Spitfire had messed up. "Anything, vanilla bean."

Normal parents would have said 'sweetpea' or some other common petname, but her dad really loved to keep up the ice cream man motif. Dismissing that train of thought, as well her uncertainty, Alex said, "Can I have a friend over for Christmas?"

"Sure," replied Mum just as Dad said, "Um."

Her parents stared at each other for several moments, as if communicating through their very eyes. An envious pang shot through Alex—would she ever experience such a close bond with someone else?—before her dad turned back to her, a grimace on his usually cheerful face.

"Popsicle, the thing is, Christmas is mostly family time."

"I know," she admitted. "That's why I want my friend over. He…doesn't really have a family."

Her mum's eyes narrowed in thought. "It's the boy on Privet Drive, isn't it? The one you wanted me to look out for?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah. He's an orphan, and what family he has can hardly be considered humane."

It wasn't until Spitfire clawed at her did Alex realise her whole body had gone taut with frustration. She tried to calm her nerves as her cat leapt from her arms and sped off to who-knew-where, but it wasn't easy.

Mum frowned. "Do they hurt him?"

Alex closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know," she said softly.

Dad exhaled sharply. "Well, that decides it, then. Your friend can visit for Christmas— no, he can stay until New Years! And he can have _all_ the ice cream he wants."

"Maybe not all of it," Mum interjected hastily.

"All of it."

A surprised laugh bubbled past Alex's lips. "Really?" she said wondrously. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," said Dad, smiling warmly. "After all, it'll still be a family event. The Fortescues plus one. A guest! We haven't had one of those in a while."

Mum smirked. "Not to mention the first boy Alex has brought over."

"Ew," she muttered, nose wrinkling. "We're _eleven_ , mum. Eleven."

"I had crushes at that age," she replied, shrugging dismissively. "Besides, your birthday isn't too far off, young lady."

Ah, twelve-years-old. No longer a child yet not yet a teen. A glorious time of insecurities and the slow emergence of hormones. Alex couldn't wait. But…

"Mum," she said slowly, "it's ten months away." It had literally just passed.

"Not too far indeed."

"I guess," she muttered, knowing better than to argue with her mum. "But if I'm going to fancy someone, it'll only be Lucy Liu." Now if only she could get her hands on an affordable laptop and quick internet… Yeah, right. Maybe in two decades.

Her parents looked confused by the unfamiliar name, but her dad soon dismissed the topic. "Never mind crushes," he scoffed. "It's Alex's first friend! What's his name?"

"His name's Harry." Alex played with her hair half-heartedly. "He's a muggle."

* * *

 _Bonus_

 _"Yer a muggle, Harry."_

 _"I'm a what?"_


	7. Happy Holidays

Chapter Seven

 _Happy Holidays_

Like most things she did in this life, it was a risky manoeuvre. Harry Potter was a magnet for trouble—there were literally seven whole books detailing all the crazy crap he was implicated in—and so, by inviting him to her house, she was practically asking for karma to bite her in the back.

But, when Alex saw the wide-eyed elation light up Harry's face, she couldn't find it in herself to regret her decision.

"You're serious?" asked Harry, stunned. He forced the swing to a stop, dragging his well-worn shoes into the sand. "Your family is inviting me over? For a whole week? For Christmas?"

Alex smiled. "Well, I'm not Sirius," she said automatically, "but it's true. So, um, pack your bags I guess?" She hadn't really planned for this part.

Harry was still gaping at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "But why?"

 _Because you're a child doomed by fate to never be truly, wholly happy._ Alex shrugged. "I miss you. We need to catch up. And I'm fairly certain you'd rather company that aren't the Dursleys."

Harry grimaced. "True," he conceded. "Won't I be a bother, though?"

"Please. My parents are dying to meet their favourite daughter's first friend."

"You have a sister?"

"Harry, I'm an only child."

Harry, the jerk, snickered. "Your parents sound fun."

"You'll have to meet them first. We'll pick you up tomorrow morning, if that's alright with you. Will your family mind?"

Harry thought for a moment, tracing random figures in the sand with the tip of his shoe. "No," he decided. "They'll probably be relieved that I'm gone so long."

Alex frowned, but said nothing on that topic. "10 o'clock good? Great. By the way, can I ask you to try to hide your scar while you stay with us?"

Startled, Harry grazed the scar on his forehead in concern. "Why?"

"My mum is something like a soldier," she said, wondering if that half-truth counted as a lie. "Scars can sort of act as a trigger for her."

"Oh. Then sure. Should I wear a hat or something?"

"Nah, just keep your hair brushed over it."

After that, they chatted a bit more. Harry was bemoaning his life with Dursleys, as well as the weird and magical (though he didn't know it yet) mishaps that occurred around him. Alex listened with half an ear, the rest of her breathing a sigh of relief at how easily Harry complied with her request. By obscuring view of his infamous lightning scar, Alex could minimise the chances of her parents realising that her friend Harry was, in fact, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

In doing so, her parents wouldn't have freak out or spill the beans to anyone willing to hear – which was probably the entire wizarding world, now that she thought about it. Alex couldn't really see her mum gossiping away, but her dad was a big-mouth who loved gossip an indecent amount. Customers of the ice cream parlour had quickly learnt to keep their secrets to themselves, lest the ice cream man caught wind of it and soon let the rest of the city know. Alex worried about him sometimes.

"Thank you for the Halloween treats," Harry said during a lull in conversation. "I don't get sweets often, so it was nice."

Alex smiled. "What did you think of the jelly beans?"

Harry pulled a face, as if he had just eaten a whole lemon. "I think that Bertie Bott fellow is nutters. What sane person makes an _ear wax_ flavour? Yuck."

Alex suppressed snicker as a shudder of disgust wracked through Harry's small, scrawny body. During one of their many written correspondences, she had sent him some of the tamer magical lollies, such as the Every Flavour Beans as well as other innocuous treats spotted in the Great Hall.

"Wait until you get a bogey-flavoured one," she whispered ominously.

She didn't bother hiding her laughter at Harry's rapidly paling complexion. It was nice to know strangely flavoured jelly beans were the worst of his worries for now. _The innocence of youth_. Not for the first time, Alex wondered how that felt.

* * *

Mum knew how to drive, thank Merlin. She had to, if she was undercover posing as a muggle for extended periods of time. It was Christmas Eve morning when they sped off to 4 Privet Drive, her parents growing visibly excited while, for Alex, it was the opposite. She wasn't sure how the Dursleys were going to react to her whisking off their live-in slave for a week; worse still, she didn't what she herself was going to do once she laid eyes on them. She'd already two bouts of accidental magic this year, but at least they were in controlled environments. Out here in the muggle world, though, one extra snap of her nerves could mean terrible trouble for the Fortescues.

Oblivious to his daughter's steadily rising panic, Florean stared intensely at the passing houses. He never really got used to the sensation of riding in an automobile – it was much smoother than he had anticipated! "Number 2, number 4 – ah, we're here!" he declared, a second too late if the sudden braking of the car was any indication. "Sorry, dear," he muttered, noting the fierce glare his lovely wife was shooting at him.

"Dad," piped up his little girl, "can you come with me to the door?"

"Of course, of course," he said cheerily. "After you."

Florean hopped out of the car and absorbed the sight of the neighbourhood with muted wonder. It was odd how every lot looked almost exactly the same. The same roof-colour, the same sort of bricks, mailboxes, gardens – you name it! It was almost as if someone had cast a mass-wide replication spell. Now there was a thought…

"On second thought," said Alex, "do you mind waiting here, by the plants?"

If her dad was bemused by her request, he didn't show it. He simply smiled and nodded, seemingly content to continue drinking in the sight of the muggle neighbourhood. She sighed softly. Suddenly Mr Weasley's fascination with the muggle world made so much sense.

Alex approached the door alone, trying not to feel as if she was walking straight into the lion's den. She raised a fist and only managed to get one knock in on the varnished door when it swung straight open, and she was graced with the sight of a man so grumpy he could put the Grinch to shame.

"Who are you?" he barked roughly. "What do you want?"

Now she was really glad her dad had stayed behind.

 _Rude piece of s—_ Alex straightened herself with indignation. "I'm here for Harry," she declared stonily.

Vernon Dursley's beady little eyes scanned her, as if gauging whether she was a freak or not. "You're that Fortescue girl, eh?" He glanced at her parents in the background. "What do your parents do?" he asked abruptly.

Alex felt her brow wrinkle in confusion. What kind of question was that? "One owns an ice cream shop. The other is a police officer." The magical equivalent, but what Dursley didn't know wouldn't hurt him. For now. She was half-tempted to ask him what _he_ did, but she didn't want to get Harry killed, so she reigned in her temper and asked with forced calm, "Is Harry ready?"

"Yeah," the only decent person in the house said, "I am."

Dursley opened his great big gob to say something to Harry—probably an insult or a vaguely threatening reminder—but the boy in question rendered his efforts naught by shuffling past him, a bag shrugged onto his back.

As he walked by Dursley, Alex noticed the man's meaty hand twitch jerkily. But it stilled as he noticed her once more. What little brainpower he had must have been working overtime as he figured it was best not to try anything in front of witnesses.

Alex was ready to leave this place and never look back, but Harry stopped by the entrance for a moment. "I'll be back in a week," he said, as if to reinforce the fact that he wouldn't be leaving them well and good. A shame, too, that. Damn blood wards.

Huffing like the arse he was, Dursley slammed the door shut without another word. Harry looked unfazed as he turned to her and mustered up a smile. "Hi," he said.

Alex smiled, amused. "Hi," she said, beginning to head back to the car. "Have you read the works of Roald Dahl, Harry?"

"Uh, no," he replied, shuffling awkwardly.

She wouldn't have either if she lived the life he did. No book was safe around Dudley Dunce Dursley. Unperturbed, she continued. "He once wrote that a person's appearance was reflective of their soul. Looking at your uncle made me remember that."

"Why?"

"He has the manners of an ogre."

It took a second for Harry to understand, but once it clicked, a grin split his face in two. "I guess I'll have to check his books out sometime," he noted, giggling.

"We have the whole collection," informed Dad as they approached him. "Harry, yes? Good to meet you. I'm Florean Fortescue, Alexandra's father."

"And ice cream extraordinaire," she added in a mumble.

The effect was instant. Dad lit up like a Christmas tree and immediately began boasting about his wonderful shop. Not that Harry could visit it, of course. Not yet, anyway. "I have several pints at home, in fact!" continued Dad. "You should try some and tell me what you think."

"That's a lot of ice cream, Dad," Alex reminded him, pulling the car door open. She gestured Harry to enter first.

Dad nodded, his face grave. "Looks like Harry will have to eat nothing but ice cream while he stays with us."

"Florean," Mum warned, but the effect was ruined by the slight twitch of her lips.

Dad laughed as he climbed in. Smirking, Alex looked over to Harry over his backpack. Though a bit bewildered by the back-and-forth, the smile he sported was a good sign that they hadn't scared him off. So far so good.

Her parents continued to talk to Harry as they headed home, with person of the hour answering somewhat shyly and uncertainly. Alex made sure to shoot him assuring smile and chip in her own two cents here and there, and so Harry gradually loosened his tense shoulders and relaxed in the car.

Once they reached home, Alex grabbed Harry's backpack before he had even unbuckled his seatbelt. The boy immediately protested. "It's okay, Alex," he assured her. "I can carry it."

Alex exaggerated a scoff. "You're a guest here, Harry. Leave the dirty work to us." Her tone and mannerisms brooked no room for argument, so Harry agreed, albeit hesitantly, and she was showing him to her room in a jiffy.

"This," she said, setting his bag by the bed, "is your temporary room for the week. It's a bit cramped, I know, sorry," she said, glancing at the stunned expression on Harry's face.

"I get my own bed?" he asked, green eyes wide with surprise.

Alex roughly tugged her mittens off, trying not to ponder on whether or not Harry had ever slept in a real bed before. Cupboards didn't afford much room for such luxuries, after all. "Yeah," she replied, ensuring her voice was as even as possible. "We don't have any spare rooms"—because they were filled with the magical items her family was forced to hide for the week, and shrinking charms or no, it was a _lot_ of crap—"so it was either here or our living room…which can be freezing this time of the year. Besides," she added, placing her mittens by her dresser, "we had a spare bed."

Harry eyed her oddly. "Why do you have a spare bed?"

The lie rolled off of her tongue easily. "My cousin comes to sleep over rather often." Alex didn't know if she _had_ any cousins. Her mum's family was practically non-existent, and her dad's already-small family was made even smaller in the war against Voldemort. "We normally keep her bed in the storage, so there might be some dust on it. S'that alright?"

Harry nodded. He moved closer towards his bed—it was shoved to the other side of room, right against the wall and parallel to hers—and touched it almost reverently. "It's brilliant," he murmured.

A dull ache throbbed in Alex's chest, but she paid it no mind. "Come on, Harry. Let's grab some lunch."

Lunch was nothing special; just some leftover chicken and mushroom penne from dinner last night. Alex had volunteered to cook, having missed her comfort food which traversed lifetimes. To her mounting dismay, Harry yet again appeared shocked when Alex remarked that he could have as much as he wanted. It was just pasta. Still, she couldn't deny the small happiness she experienced when Harry enthusiastically devoured his meal, even if it was much less than what she ate (most of the chicken went to her cat, though).

"Don't forget the ice cream later," chimed in Dad from the sofa. He was perusing the _Daily Prophet_ , careful to angle himself so that Harry wouldn't catch sight of the moving images.

 _Magical GIFs_ , Alex thought to herself, smirking. "Wouldn't dream of it, Dad." Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and her smile flipped into a frown at the sight of Harry collecting the dirty dishes. "Harry, don't. Like I said, you're the guest."

Flinching, Harry gazed down at the dishes in mild surprise. "Right. Sorry." He hemmed and hawed for a bit, and Alex realised he was torn between putting it back on the table or placing them in the sink.

She huffed in amusement. "Pass them here, then. We'll do it together."

Relieved, Harry nodded and followed her to the sink. They worked quite well together, with her washing while he dried. He did it quickly and efficiently, barely paying attention to the work. The mundane chore must be ingrained into him by now, considering how often he must have done them under the loving care of the Dursleys. Alex scowled. It probably explained why he had automatically collected the dishes in the first place.

"Um, Alex?" Harry said anxiously. "I think that plate is clean by now."

Alex's hands stilled, her scowl loosening with confusion. She had unknowingly been scrubbing away furiously at the plate in her hands, which practically glistened with cleanliness now. She sighed, somehow not very surprised. At least she hadn't released any bursts of magic this time.

"Right," she said shortly, handing him the plate.

He accepted it, and they continued without another word.

Although Alex was more than ready for ice cream, Harry swore he couldn't eat another bite. Not wanting to pig out by herself, she suggested a game to kill the time. After going through their usual routine of rock-paper-scissors, I Spy, and hangman, they eventually switched to board games. Unfortunately, they couldn't use the magical kind (it was a bit hard to explain the animate figure pieces, changing colours of the board and the random minor explosions) so Alex dug out a classic: Monopoly.

Finding it proved difficult, since her parents had done their best to hide it in the attic. As she set up the game in the living room, she saw the way her parents practically froze, tragic memories of the last time they played rushing through their mind.

Hopefully, Harry wasn't as competitive as her family. She really didn't want their budding friendship to end so soon.

"Ugh," Alex groaned a good deal into the game. "Come on, Harry, you've already won everything else. Let me have this."

"Sorry, Alex," replied Harry, smiling. "Rules are rules."

Grumbling, she grudgingly handed her friend the appropriate amount of money she owed. "At least stop buying everything you land on."

Harry shrugged. "It's working so far."

"Play nice, you two," Mum warned from behind her mug of tea. "Alex, remember what happened last time we played."

"Yes, Mum," she mumbled, face growing warm.

Harry, noticing her reaction, asked, "What happened?"

Alex dedicated her attention to anywhere but him. She fiddled with her piece – a bathtub, because why not? "Someone might have lost their temper and flipped the game," she said quickly and quietly.

Harry snickered. "Was that someone you?"

"No!" she cried, indignant. When Harry merely looked at her, she deflated with a sigh. "To be fair, it was an accident. I was getting up when my hands coincidentally tipped the board over."

"Mmhm," he hummed. "An accident. Sure."

"Shut up and play, Harry."

She lost painfully. Harry Potter was a relentless tycoon – who knew? No untimely accidents occurred this time, though, so she accepted her loss with as much dignity as she could muster. (It wasn't much. She had lost to a _ten-year-old_.)

Still, Monopoly wasn't too fruitless of an endeavour. Harry was _finally_ peckish enough to try the famous Fortescue ice cream, and so they chose the safest sounding one: white chocolate miso. Thank Merlin Harry didn't appear too interested in the popping candy flavour; though generally safe, the magical version tended to make you see fireworks in the back of your mind as a rush of flavour overwhelmed you.

"It's good," noted a faintly surprised Harry. Granted, the combination sounded odd in the first place.

Alex hummed in agreement around her spoon. "It's Mum's favourite."

"What's yours?"

"Chilli and dark chocolate."

Harry almost choked on his morsel of ice cream. "You're not serious."

Alex simply smirked in response.

Feeling somewhat bloated from the dessert, the two children decided to go for a walk. Alex's parents were inevitably dragged along, because mentally mature or not, creeps were everywhere. When suppertime grew close, they opted to eat out for dinner. As he was the guest, Harry got to choose. When he chose pizza, both Alex and her father were pleased. The matriarch was less so.

"Today was a good day," Harry announced from his temporary bed.

Alex dragged her eyes away from the frame of his bed. When hers was replicated to create his, it copied everything from the shade of the wood to the light scratches decorating it. "It's only the beginning. Happy Christmas Eve, Harry."

Harry's smile was visible even through the dim lamplight. "Happy Christmas Eve, Alex."

Alex's nightmares were subdued that night.


	8. New Year, New Me?

Chapter Eight

 _New Year, New Me?_

Alex eyed the train with distaste. After what seemed like an impossibly joyous week with her parents and Harry, the prospect of going back to the castle-shaped prison was far from tempting. Only the thought of the library forced her to put one foot in front of the other.

It didn't take long to find an empty compartment – she was insanely early, after all. Alex cracked open the book her dad had given her for Christmas. It was fairly thick, detailing the difficulty and steps it took to create one's own spell. A bit high-end for a typical first year, but Alex was far from so, and her parents were vaguely aware of that.

"Besides," added Dad, a cheerful smile on his face, "plenty of Fortescues have created their own spells, so you can too, Alex!" Creating magical ice cream flavours was a surprisingly tough ordeal, it seemed.

Harry had still been asleep while they exchanged their less-than-normal gifts, so they were free to do so without fear of breaking the International Statute of Secrecy. Not that it counted if the subject himself was Harry, but she would rather her parents remained in the dark – for now.

Mum had given her a book as well, though it was on defensive spells that weren't taught at school.

"A bit crass," she had admitted, nursing some eggnog, "but it'll get the job done."

For a frightening moment, Alex wondered if her parents somehow knew about the bullying incident at school. Their expressions didn't hint as much, so she was forced to tuck away the idea and calm herself down. Paranoia wasn't exactly an activity she'd like to indulge in during Christmastime.

Alex managed to annotate twenty pages before the door slid open.

"Cedric," she said lamely. "Hi."

Her friend smiled. "Finally found you, Alex. I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Why?" she asked, honestly confused. Cedric had plenty of friends, and sitting in a compartment full of people he knew and liked was much preferable to staying with her and those who couldn't find seats elsewhere.

"Because I wanted to," Cedric replied with typical childish obliviousness. He politely declined her offer to help him pop his luggage up on the shelf. "How was your holiday?" he asked, wiggling a finger through the grated door of Spitfire's carrier.

"Good," she said, smiling. "Thank you for the present."

When Cedric grinned, Alex could suddenly see why he'd become such a heart-throb in several years' time. "Did you like it?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah. I've practised some of the spells at home, so I'm curious about what the results'll be like."

Cedric laughed, his brown eyes dancing with glee as he imagined the reactions of her future victims. Like her mum, Cedric had bought her a book on defensive magic. Well, it'd be more accurate to call them offensive, since they were jinxes and hexes that could be used against those who raised their wands against her. He had attained her address before the break, explaining that he would owl her in the meantime. She had been expecting _letters_ , not a Christmas present.

Her smiled dimmed somewhat. "I'm sorry for not getting you a better gift," she admitted. When the owl had arrived, she exchanged her package for one filled with sweets from Honeydukes as well as coupons for her dad's shop.

"Don't be. Free ice cream is much better than some of the other presents I received," he claimed. Noting her curious expression, he elaborated: "My mates gave me the usual – Christmas cards, quidditch merch, chocolate frogs, jelly beans, and even acid pops. Dad was so mad when he saw that last one, but it gave Mum and me a bit of a laugh."

She grinned. "Did you end up eating the acid pops, though?"

Cedric replied by sticking out his tongue. A small hole had burned through the muscle, confirming that he had indeed indulged in the oddly popular sweet. She rolled her eyes at the sight, even as her smile grew.

They were still chatting by the time the train took off. Alex capitalised on one of the lulls in conversation by glancing out the window as the view rolled by. It was just as lovely as the first time around.

Her inner peace was short-lived. The door was thrown open for the second time, and the compartment was suddenly bombarded by a gaggle of Hufflepuffs. It was easy to tell who they were – the joy they regarded Cedric with as well as the disdain they aimed at her were dead giveaways.

"What're you doing here?" one of the shorter ones asked, a sneer on his face.

"Yeah," added another, "leave Ced alone."

 _Wow._ They weren't even at Hogwarts yet and she was already being harassed. The Hufflepuffs seemed to have regained their confidence over the break.

Alex really didn't want to deal with all _this_ right now. Instead of replying, she sank into her seat and closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

"Wha— Hey! Wake up, snake!"

"Let me. _Alama—_!"

Alex's eyes were open in an instant. Her wand shot out of the sleeve of her jacket, a counter on the tip of her tongue when she registered the sight before her. Cedric was standing in front of her, forming a wall that separated her from the others. From what she could see of his face, he didn't look happy.

"Enough," he said firmly. "I know Professor Sprout told us it's important for us to look out for each other, but Alex is my friend."

"But she's a _Slytherin_ ," hissed the girl, her wand raised.

"That shouldn't matter," countered Cedric. "If you think Alex is bad because of her House, then it must also mean that we're as lazy and untalented as people think we are."

Dissent rippled through the small group of children. Some had redirected their scowls from her to Cedric, and Alex fought to swallow the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. Cedric shouldn't have to lose his friends over her.

"It's okay," she said, gaining everyone's attention. Alex slid her wand back up her sleeve, where her recently purchased holster kept it latched on to her arm. "I'll leave. See you, Cedric."

She didn't give him any time to refute. With as much dignity as she could muster, Alex strode out of the crowded compartment, Spitfire's carrier under her arm.

Fortunately, the train wasn't nearly as crowded as it was in the beginning of the school year. More than one carriage was empty, so Alex headed to the very last one and made herself comfortable once more. She cuddled Spitfire close to her, but other than him, she was completely alone. And that was okay.

School continued as per usual, though the shift in seasons brought a small change to the lessons. Several professors took advantage of the fairer weather and taught outside; Herbology expanded past the usual greenhouses to the greens of Hogwarts. Professor Sprout had sent them on a plant-themed treasure hunt, where they had to gather the appropriate plant based on the hints provided. Alex took a moment to be grateful that Professor Sprout hadn't been the Head of Ravenclaw – otherwise, the relatively simple hints would have undoubtedly become riddles.

Then again, it would've saved them a lot of awkwardness. Professor Sprout had overlooked the fact that there was an uneven amount of students among the first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, which wouldn't normally be an issue, but this activity was designed to be pair work. As everyone chose their partners, Alex stayed on the sidelines and found herself alone. Professor Sprout grew flustered, but Alex managed a small smile for the anxious woman and assured her she would be fine on her own. The Herbology professor's frown told her she wasn't fond of the idea, but there was no other choice. Alex worked best on her own anyway. In the end, she was the first to return, and received ten points as a result. They might've been pity points, but Alex didn't care. It was fine.

She quickly faded into the background. Now that she was no longer hanging with one of the more notable students in the lower years, she slipped under the radar. Other than the professors, the only other people who acknowledged her presence were Grant and Duncan, and even that was limited to their shared classes and occasionally the library. Alex didn't eat in the Great Hall anymore.

One night, she was jolted awake by a particularly cruel nightmare. She forced her breaths to calm down as she slowly extracted herself from her covers, careful not to jostle her sleeping cat. Her exit went undetected.

There was one problem – where to go now? She could stay in the common room, but it was creepier than ever in the middle of the night. The torches were dim, allowing the perpetual green glow to emanate eerily. Though it was spring, and though there were temperature charms controlling the area, Alex felt a shiver crawl down her spine. No to the common room, then.

She sighed. She really didn't want to wander the castle at night, for a multitude of reasons—losing points being just one of them—but she didn't have much of a choice. There was no way she could fall back asleep, and she'd soon have a heart attack than stay in the common room this late, so the hallways would have to do.

A simple Disillusionment spell quelled most of her fears of being caught. It didn't make one invisible, exactly, but repelled people from looking too closely in the castor's direction. If they did, they could see the faint outline of someone or something, like a less convincing chameleon. Or so said the second-year Charms book she had read, anyway.

Alex stepped quickly and lightly through the castle. She wasn't cocky enough to believe the spell was foolproof, even with the darkness of the night cloaking her movements. Prefects, teachers, ghosts, paintings – anyone could spot her, and she wasn't looking forward to having to explain her actions.

The last bunch probably wasn't much to worry about, now that she thought about it. They all seemed to be sleeping soundly (and loudly) in the comfort of their frames. Alex wondered if it was real. Paintings weren't actual people, after all, so did they really need respite?

Her answer came in the form of an old History of Magic professor. Professor Galing blinked her eyes open the moment Alex removed the spell, bemusement replacing her initial surprise. "Miss Fortescue?" she murmured quietly, glancing at the painting around her. No one stirred. "What are you doing here at this time?"

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, frowning. "How have you been, professor? Anything odd happen around here?"

The middle-aged witch mirrored her frown. "Not much, no. A few pranks here and there – one of the little buggers tainted my painting! The nerve of them," she whispered furiously.

Alex smiled, relaxing gradually as she Professor Galing's rants to wash over. She hummed and 'ah'ed at the appropriate moments, smiling here or frowning there (mostly the latter) when something odd piqued her attention.

"Sorry, what was that?" she interrupted, startled. "Professor Farlah did what?"

Professor Galing appeared displeased by the disruption, but she answered nevertheless. "He ran past here, looking like he had lost his marbles."

Poor man. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor must've been slowly unravelling from his time here. Underage wizards and witches were already chaotic enough by themselves, but placed in a situation where dangerous spells were actually encouraged? Forget about Voldemort's curse, the job itself seemed hellish enough.

"All due to that ruddy curse," muttered the painting.

Opportunity struck in the least likely of places. "Curse?" she asked, feigning mild interest.

The expression Professor Galing adopted was similar to that of a child caught misbehaving. "Ah, yes," she began uncomfortably. "It is said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself put a curse on the position. Why? Perhaps it would make it easier for him knowing that wizards and witches would be unable to protect themselves from his favourite kind of magic."

"Dark magic," she muttered. Alex asked another question, hoping to wheedle out some more information from the bored professor. After all, an alibi for her knowledge was extremely valuable.

The sun began to rise once Professor Galing had talked herself dry. Bidding her informant farewell, Alex dragged herself back to the dorm. Hopefully by now the common room looked less like something straight out of a haunted house.

A tremendous grumble from her stomach forced her to change paths. Shooting the snickering portraits a dirty glare, Alex hurried towards the kitchens.

Though the elves had only just begun to make breakfast, one managed to break free and ask for her order. She smiled as she recognised which elf it was – Kippy, one of the few who always catered to her needs. When the elf wasn't too busy, Alex invited Kippy to talk to her. Thankfully, she wasn't as messed up as Dobby, and responded with some sobbing the first time she had asked.

"Is Miss here for breakfast?" asked Kippy as she twiddled her thumbs.

Alex nodded. "No need to rush. I don't mind waiting." She knew her words were futile, though, as Kippy promptly and firmly denied such an offense and hurried off to business.

As she waited, Alex watched the elves hustle and bustle as they prepared enough for the small army that was the Hogwarts population. Pots and pans drifted through the air, as well as several plates. They all steered clear of her by now, so she didn't have to duck her head like the first time she had discovered the kitchens.

Her food was ready within minutes. Kippy hefted a plateful of hash browns, eggs and bacon, as well as wholemeal toast covered thinly in butter and jam. She had a different meal every morning, but this was one of her favourites.

Before digging in, though Alex smiled and thanked Kippy like she always did. But she had something special with her this time.

"Can I give you something, Kippy?"

The already-wide eyes of the house-elf grew even larger. "S'not clothes, is it, Miss? Please no clothes!"

"No, no, nothing of the sort." Leaning down, Alex tied a turquoise ribbon by the knot of Kippy's makeshift wash-cloth robe. "It's just a little trinket," she explained, sitting back up. "A thank-you for being so kind and helpful."

As far as house-elves went, Kippy wasn't quite as emotional as one would expect, but Alex's gift was too much for her. She began to sob and wail, making Alex flinch. She jumped right out of her stool and awkwardly patted the elf, trying to soothe her in any way possible. Gradually, the sniffles died down into something more manageable, and—after numerous thank-you's—Kippy returned to work.

"That was kind of you."

Closing her eyes briefly, Alex straightened herself. "I know a thing or two about kindness," she admitted, turning around to face Cedric.

"Yeah, I eventually figured that out." The corners of Cedric's lips tugged up into a small smile. "Would you mind some company?"

"You're always welcome, Cedric."

Cedric's smile grew. He closed the door-slash-portrait and walked over, sitting in the seat beside her. It reminded her of their very first meeting. Cedric must've been thinking the same thing, because a look of nostalgia washed over him.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, twirling her fork between her fingers.

"Honestly, I was at first. It's upsetting when one of your close friends cuts you out almost completely, you know?" Boy, did she. "But as the weeks went on, I calmed down and thought things through a little." Cedric kept her gaze locked with his. "You weren't ignoring me because you wanted to, were you?"

Slowly, Alex nodded. "You're well-liked, Cedric. You have so many friends, and our friendship would only cause you trouble. So it was better for everyone that it stopped."

"Not for everyone. It wasn't better for you."

Alex smiled. "That doesn't matter."

"Stop that." Cedric's hands clenched into fists on his lap. "You can't think like that, Alex."

But it was true; she was a nobody in every sense. She had no place in this world, in the grand scheme of things. She could count on one hand the amount of people who actually cared for her, and even that wasn't much. Her parents were almost too busy for her, Duncan and Grant were merely classmates, Harry would have so many more precious people that would soon outweigh her immensely, and Cedric? He was the Champion of Hogwarts itself.

Some of this must have broken through her forced smile. Cedric scowled—an action Alex didn't think the boy was even capable of—and grabbed her shoulders with a strength that belied his quidditch training.

"You matter to me," he said, face serious and sombre. "You're my friend."

"And the Hufflepuffs?"

Cedric finally broke the stare-off. He gazed uncertainly at his hands as he retracted them from her person. "I don't know," he said, his voice soft with honest confusion. "Sometimes I'm sure of everything, that they're my friends and I can trust them, but then I mention you and their reactions aren't… well, they aren't pleasant."

She didn't like seeing Cedric like this, so torn and helpless. "I don't want to make you choose between us." If anything, she wanted him to choose them. "And I don't want anything to happen because of me. So, how about this? We go incognito."

"What do you mean?"

This time, Alex's smile was genuine. "What do you know about the Room of Requirement?"


	9. It Begins

**A/N:** aka Alexandra Fortescue and the Surprising Start to Her Second Year

* * *

Chapter Nine

 _It Begins_

The rest of the year practically flew by in Alex's eyes. Spending time with Cedric seemed to do the trick. Almost every day they met up in the Room of Requirement, which changed depending on what they craved. Sometimes it was Cedric's room, or hers; or their respective common rooms. Generally, though, it was a fantastical forest straight out of a fairy tale.

Alex smiled to herself as she recalled Cedric's reaction upon seeing the room for the first time. His jaw had literally dropped open as he gaped at the magical room. Alex actually had to push him in before anyone noticed, and it still took him a few moments to regain himself. Once he did, though, he began to put her words to the test, wishing for several different layouts and items as he watched the room cater to his desire.

Noticing her out-of-place grin, the customer she was serving quickly paid for his ice cream and bolted. That snapped Alex out of her reverie rather efficiently. She moved onto the next patron, scooper in hand.

It was summer, and while that meant fun in the sun for most children, it simply meant working in the parlour for Alex. She didn't mind, though; she only had to work every other day, she got paid for it, and it was an excellent place to people-watch and information-gathering. Spotting the familiar witch or wizard here or there was also a nice boost.

When she wasn't working, Alex made sure to see Harry. Like her, he was put to work during the break. The difference was that it was completely involuntary and utterly dreadful on his part. On more than one occasion did she catch him tending to the garden under the sweltering heat of the sun.

When the Dursleys struggled to scrounge up another menial chore for him to, they let Harry loose to do whatever he wanted as long as it didn't have anything to do with them in any way possible. Love, thy name was Dursley.

As much as Alex wanted to invite Harry into comforts of her home, she knew it would be a pain to hide anything remotely magical from him once again. On days when the heat was bearable, they played outside, wandering around the area, making up games as they went. When stepping outside for more than a few minutes resulted in fine sheens of sweat, though, they retreated to either the library or local shopping centre.

Man, she would give almost anything to visit him now. Unfortunately, it was August, when the heat seemed to intensify with a vengeance before summer could officially make way for autumn. At least working in the ice cream parlour ensured she would constantly be cool.

It was so peaceful. Alex wouldn't mind if time froze, leaving them all in the summer of '91 without having to worry about the horrors that would soon plague the near future. Unfortunately, life didn't work that way. She would know.

Time passed, and she was back at Platform 9¾ before she knew it. Since it was the first day of the year, both her parents had taken time off of work to see her off. Like last year, she waited as Dad ruffled her hair and Mum pat her cheek before boarding the train. She gave them one last smile and a "See you soon" as she trekked through the train in search of her favourite carriage.

Someone was already in it.

She stared blankly at the bespectacled boy in her seat.

Harry Potter mirrored her stunned expression. "Alex? What are you—? Are you—? No."

Alex snapped her gaping mouth shut with a _click_. "I didn't know you were a wizard," she finally managed to get out.

"So it's true," he said quietly. "You're magical as well."

"A witch, yeah. Small world, huh?"

Hurt shone through Harry's green eyes, visible even beneath his wonky glasses. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"There's a law," she said, lowering her eyes in shame. "We're not to reveal our magic to non-magical beings."

"Oh," he murmured. His downtrodden demeanour cleared for a moment. "Does that mean your family is the one who owns the ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley? I mean, I had a feeling, but…"

Alex nodded, smiling slightly. "Now you know why Dad is such a nutter about ice cream."

Harry laughed, and Alex knew things were all right again.

They talked for a while—well, it was mostly Harry who talked, while she listened—as the train took off with a small jolt. Harry recounted the snake incident at the zoo, the whole letter affair, meeting Hagrid and exploring Diagon Alley. Alex smiled the entire time he spoke; he seemed more alive in this moment than he had so far in the time she knew him. Well, she supposed it was natural. Harry Potter was returning to his world, after all.

"Hogwarts was the boarding school you spent all of last year in, wasn't in?" Harry asked after a moment of silence. When she nodded, he continued nervously, "How is it?"

Alex pursed her lips as she searched her mind for a fitting word. "Complicated," she decided.

Harry's face scrunched up into bemusement, but before he could seek an explanation, the door was sliding open.

An uncomfortable boy with ginger hair poked his head in. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing to the seat beside Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

When they shook their heads, the boy came in and sat down. He spared maybe a glance at Alex, but focused on Harry a little longer before gazing out the window. Despite his apparent disinterest, his body language practically screamed curiosity.

"Hi," she ventured, hating the awkward silence. "I'm Alexandra Fortescue."

"Fortescue as in Florean Fortescue?" the redhead asked, excited.

Alex huffed a laugh. "Yeah, daughter of the ice cream man. You are?"

"I'm—" Before he could answer, though, the compartment was opened yet again.

"Hey, Ron," called the Weasley twins.

Alex stiffened, but they hadn't seemed to notice her presence yet.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

One of the twins turned to her, and Alex could feel her heart pounding furiously in her chest. His eyes narrowed. "Hey, we know you! You're the Slytherin from the Owlery!"

" _Slytherin_?" spat Ron, his open face now twisting in disgust.

Her fists were clenched, and it was only when she looked down did she realise she was shaking. Alex was furious, but she was also hurt. The revelation was a bit confusing. She'd long grown used to the (sometimes rightful) discrimination against her House, but for some reason it was much worse when Ron – someone who hadn't even stepped foot into Hogwarts yet, someone so young and innocent – regarded her with unjustified disdain. He didn't even know her.

She tried her best not to look in Harry's direction. She didn't want to see what his reaction was.

Alex closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were cool and indifferent. "I'm a Slytherin, yes. What of it?"

Spluttering, Ron and his siblings gave her the usual run-down that seemed to define Slytherins as a whole: sly, evil, dark history, dark lords, etc.

Alex clutched Spitfire's carrier close to her chest. "Maybe they went mad from the hate they received."

One of the twins sneered. "Don't act like you lot don't give as good as you get."

"There was once a man who betrayed his best friends to the Dark Lord, you know. They died because of him. He was a Gryffindor."

Okay, so maybe letting slip something so integral wasn't a wise move. But no one said Alex was wise, especially not when she was being this emotional and irrational.

The boys recoiled, but Alex wasn't done. "And yeah, my House has a terrible history. But that doesn't mean you should judge people before getting to know them. I haven't done anything to anyone."

The other twin scoffed. "So you're saying the Hufflepuffs—the quietest House in Hogwarts—decided to attack you for no reason last year?"

Alex couldn't help but smile. "Pretty much."

Before the Weasleys could retaliate, Harry reminded them all he was still in the carriage. "I don't understand," he confessed. "I've known Alex for a year and she's been nothing but nice." Well, to him, anyway.

"Harry!" the twins cried simultaneously.

"A year?" asked Ron, eyes comically wide.

Harry nodded, his glasses slipping slightly at the motion. "We went to the same school."

"Don't be fooled," warned Ron. "I've heard tons of stories about Slytherins. They're the worst sort of people, always lying and sneaking around and stabbing people in the back."

 _Always lying_. That sounded about right. After all, Alex's life was essentially a lie.

Whatever semblance of calm Alex managed to grab onto was long gone. Her eyes burned and her mind felt foggy, but one clear thought managed to pierce the torrent of emotions wrestling within her: she needed to leave. Now.

Without another word – not even to Harry, her first friend – Alex rushed out, leaving her luggage and only carrying Spitfire and his carrier with her. She pushed past the yelping twins, ignored Harry's call for her, and ran off to the nearest bathroom. She spent the rest of the trip there.

* * *

Harry stared, stunned, at the place where Alex had been sitting only moments. But she was driven away, looking more upset than he had ever seen her, because of the red-headed boys around him. He scowled.

"How could you say those things?" he demanded. "I don't care what these Slytherin people are supposed to be like, Alex is none of that."

The twins shared a look. Ron eyed him weirdly.

"Harry, right?" one of the twins asked. "We didn't introduce ourselves, did we? Fred and George Weasley. That's Ron, our brother," he continued, nodding in the direction of said boy.

Harry was thrown off, having expected a confrontation. He deflated somewhat. "Hi," he said uncertainly.

The other twin rubbed the back of his neck. "We might have gone a bit too far with her…" he admitted anxiously.

"Her name's Alex," he interjected.

"Right. Alex." George—or was it Fred?—shook himself slightly. "Anyway, we should get going. Lee's going to wonder what happened to us. Later."

"Bye," chorused Harry and Ron.

They were silent for a few seconds. Harry gazed out the window, though he noticed in the corner of his eye Ron working himself up to say something.

"Did you mean what you said?" he finally asked. "About her?"

Harry frowned. "Yes. She's my friend."

"But…you…" Ron ran his hands over his face in frustration, somehow missing the black smudge on his nose. "I don't get it. But I guess if you say she's alright… She wasn't anything like I expected her to be."

"Maybe you shouldn't believe rumours," he said a bit rudely. Harry himself had been the target of a fair share of rumours, instigated by both children and adults alike. All the things the Dursleys told people about him were rubbish, so it was most likely that the things people said about Alex and Slytherins were stupid too.

Ron flushed in shame, and whatever anger Harry had in regards to him mellowed out.

His opinion of Ron improved with time, as the two boys talked about all sorts of things. Ron seemed as interested in Harry as he was in him. He couldn't still believe it – him, Harry Potter, a _wizard_. And Alex was a witch. Sadness welled up within him at the thought, but he quickly brushed it away. She couldn't have told him. There was a law.

There were so many things Harry still didn't know about this whole new world. So he bombarded Ron with questions, and the other boy did the same.

Harry's train of thought was derailed when the boy with the round face he had seen on the platform popped in asking about a rat. A minute or so after he left, a bushy-haired girl strode in asking the same thing. She spoke a lot, and very quickly, and Harry's head was still reeling by the time she left.

"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell," he grumbled, glaring at his very not-yellow rat. "George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What House are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Sly—"

Slytherin. There it was again. The one Voldemort was in. The one Alex was in. Harry's stomach churned, and he was certain it wasn't due to the sweets.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take their minds off Houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

* * *

To be honest, Alex wasn't too surprised to see Harry in Gryffindor. Some things never changed, she supposed.

She clapped dutifully each time someone was sorted, regardless of House. Still, she made sure her applause for the Slytherins was just a tad more enthusiastic, if only to keep the others from coming after her with torches and pitchforks.

What she would give to be eating in the kitchens instead. The only thing holding her back was the knowledge of the house elves slaving away more so than usual tonight. They tended to go all out on all special occasions—like Halloween and Christmas—but the Sorting feast was the most excitable. They wanted to impress the new students, especially the ones who knew barely anything about magic, or so Kippy said.

"Well, I heard from _Father_ that—"

Then again, she thought as she stabbed into her potatoes, that didn't stop her from eating as fast as she could, if only to distance herself from the Malfoy scion and his condescending words. To make things worse, most of the first-years around him, as well a good chunk of the second-years, were listening avidly to every word.

It was safe to say Alex wasn't going to be in the Great Hall much this year.

Dessert had barely begun by the time Alex was well and done for the night. Despite her intense desire to leave, though, she didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself. So she turned around and caught up with Duncan and Grant. While Duncan had stayed home during the break, Grant had gone to Hawaii, and was sporting a healthy tan as a result.

"You should have seen him right after he got back," said Duncan, grinning. "He was so dark he could have passed as my brother!"

Grant rolled his eyes, looking as if he heard that joke a million times already. Since it was Duncan, he probably had. Alex chuckled, feeling lighter than she had in hours.

Someone was staring at her. Keeping her smile in place, Alex flicked her eyes in the direction the stare was coming from. Her eyes met that of her favourite Hufflepuff, and her smile widened into a grin before she looked away.

In addition to exchanging letters, Cedric had visited the shop several times over the summer. Each time he used the coupons she had given him for Christmas. He lingered long after he had devoured his ice cream, chatting with her and killing time while his parents shopped and socialised.

She would see Cedric soon enough. Like last year, they agreed to meet in the Room of Requirement after lunch on Sundays. It was one of the quieter periods, when the corridor was relatively abandoned in favour of the fields, or the library, or the dorms.

A few people were finally leaving the tables. Sighing, Alex followed them a moment later, bidding her Duncan and Grant goodbye as she rose.

As she headed to the dungeons, she kept a firm grip on her wand. It was best to be on guard all year this year. Lord Voldemort was in town, after all.

The next morning was full of stumbling first-years gazing hopelessly at the corridors. For the umpteenth time, Alex wondered why they didn't hand out maps on the first day. Merlin knew at least half of the year got lost for most of their first week.

The first bunch she ran into were those from her own House. Two boys were huddled together, and since neither of them were blonde or bull-like, that narrowed it down to Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

Her knowledge of them was obscure. Were they anti-Muggle and pro-Voldemort? Were they cruel bullies who lorded the power and status over everyone else? She didn't know, and at that moment she didn't care. Right now, they looked like nothing but a pair of apprehensive eleven-year-olds not wanting to be tardy to their first class of the year. She remembered the feeling all too well.

"What class do you have first?" she asked.

Blaise eyed her warily, so that left Theodore to answer: "Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall."

Alex nodded. "I know of a shortcut. Follow me if you want." She didn't ask them if they wanted to follow, because their pride would forbid them to, so she gave them no room to argue. Without another word, she turned and trekked the familiar path to the Transfiguration classroom. The soft footfalls behind her told her that the boys had used their heads and listened.

They reached the classroom before anyone had even entered the corridor. Alex nodded to the set of doors on her left. "This is it. I'm Alexandra Fortescue, by the way. If you need to find your way, let me know."

"Thank you," said Theodore, and Alex almost flinched in surprise. She rarely heard those words from her Housemates. "I'm Theodore Nott, and that's Blaise Zabini."

Alex found herself smiling. Theodore's politeness was refreshing. "It's not a problem. It takes a while to get used to navigating through the castle." She checked her watch, made an excuse about getting to class, and waved a goodbye to the boys before walking away.

Her excuse became more and more honest as she came across more and more lost students. She probably should have just ignored them and kept going, but it was better that she was late than them. They actually cared about school.

Instead of personally escorting each and every student, though, she grabbed a sticky note from her bag and wrote down directions. She wasn't sure about some rooms, though, so she gave some student general outlines of what they should encounter if they went the right way. Since that wasn't enough for the more nervous ones, she assured them that it was their first day, and no one would really fault them (besides Snape).

She was ten minutes late to class by the time she was done. Oh well. It was only Defence Against the Dark Arts with Quirrell.

The rest of the week followed mostly the same way. There were still a few lost students, bumbling around and dazed because of the moving staircases, deceitful Peeves, well-intentioned but incompetent portraits, as well as doors that weren't doors, but merely the walls playing a trick on them. Honestly, why that jinx was still in place…

The only ones who asked her anymore were the Slytherins, oddly enough. Then again, she supposed the Ravenclaw first-years had settled into their House nicely, and were relying on books and their Housemates to guide the way. The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were also most likely more comfortable asking their older Housemates. It was either that or they had learned to stay from her, the evil snake that she was.

"Hey, Fortescue."

Alex looked away from the dim greenhouse to one of her Housemates. His name escaped her, since they had never spoken a single word to each other. She identified him by his long black hair, which grazed his shoulders, and his sharp-as-knives cheekbones.

"I hear you've been helping out the Slytherin firsties." He nodded in approval. "Good to see you have some House loyalty after all."

 _My life is complete._ "How'd you hear?" she asked, keeping her voice polite but cool.

"My cousin Pansy was complaining about being the only one late to class on the first day. She interrogated a few of the others, who admitted they were directed by you."

Oh, so he was related to the snobby little girl from the pet store. "I see." Feeling a bit courageous, she continued: "You didn't advise her?"

He waved his hand dismissively as he rolled his eyes. "If she can't even ask for help, there's no point in handing it to her on a silver platter."

Smiling slightly, Alex nodded and wrapped up the conversation. Mostly because holding a civil conversation with someone from her House was both an anomaly and discomforting, but also because Professor Sprout had arrived.

The portly witch bustled in, appearing rather excited despite the fact that they were being taught how to handle _mandrakes_ today. Second year Herbology was considerably more dangerous and difficult than first year, she knew, but she didn't realise they would dive right into it.

Grimacing, Alex tried to block out the chatter of the boys to her right. Professor Sprout was explaining the importance of Mandrakes, but also the dire threat they could pose. Fortunately, they were only working on baby Mandrakes as opposed to adults, so the chance of dropping dead was immensely lower.

"Everybody, put on your earmuffs! Quickly now!" Professor Sprout beamed at her students as they scrambled to shove the earmuffs on before she plucked the young Mandrake from its comfy pot.

Even with the earmuffs on, Alex could still hear the boys on her right snicker and groan about the lame gear. Alex supposed they hadn't been paying attention to the professor's lecture, because when she pulled up the shrieking plant, a few of them collapsed immediately.

Professor Sprout seemed to mutter, "Oh no," before hastily tucking the mandrake into a fresh pot of dirt. The class collectively breathed a sigh of relief as they removed their earmuffs. Wincing, Alex tugged on her left ear, which was still ringing.

 _Note to self,_ she thought grumpily, _learn the silencing spell._

"Oh dear," sighed Professor Sprout, as she came to inspect the fallen boys. "They weren't listening when I was talking about the potency of the cries, were they?" She flicked her wand and muttered, " _Rennervate_ " before scolding the now-conscious idiots. When that was done, she resumed the lesson, making the class suffer from _multiple_ blood-curdling shrieks as the horrifyingly baby-like plants were uprooted and planted once more.

Then again, if she were a mandrake, she'd be screaming too. The plants were surprisingly sentient, which made the future butchering and stewing of them when they were ripe much worse.

Alex sighed. What a way to start the year.


	10. Midnight Mania

**A/N:** You guys are so sweet! Your reviews honestly have me tearing up sometimes. :')

* * *

Chapter Ten

 _Midnight Mania_

"Alex!" called a familiar squeaky voice.

Alex switched her gaze from her book to Harry and Ron, who were both walking rather quickly towards her. "What's up?" she said easily.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," replied an irritable Ron. "You're never in the Great Hall. Do you even eat?"

"I survive by consuming the souls of my victims," she said nonchalantly, grabbing the letter Harry was holding out for her. She read it, ignoring the way Ron paled.

It was from Hagrid, asking Harry to come down for tea and tell him about his first week. _So sweet._ However, what really caught her attention was the post-script, which asked Harry if he knew anyone with the initials A.F. who owned a black cat called Spitfire.

Alex exhaled sharply. "I was wondering where he was," she murmured. Her pet, like most cats, was a free spirit, roaming around the castle and its grounds. She only saw him after class, when he waited for her by the kitchens, so she could feed him and carry him back to the dorm, where he would sleep by her feet.

Harry took back the letter, folding it neatly and slipping it into his bag. "Ron and I are heading there right now. Did you want to come?"

"Sure," she said, glancing at Ron. "Unless there's a problem with that?"

Ron ducked down to hide his blush, but the pink tips of his ears were a dead giveaway.

Harry shook his head. "No problem. We've agreed you're nothing like a Slytherin."

Alex gave him a look.

This time, it was Harry's turn to redden in embarrassment. "We've run into a few bad apples."

"Malfoy," spat Ron, scowling.

 _Ah_. Alex sighed in understanding. "He's a brat," she agreed. Shaking her head, she packed away her book and stood up. "But enough about him. To Hagrid's?"

Hagrid's home wasn't too far from the library. The shack was mostly made of wood, and seemed a little small for a half-giant. Why hadn't anyone—especially Dumbledore—used an enlargement spell? It shouldn't be too difficult, considering every magical tent was secretly bigger on the inside. Or perhaps it only worked with certain materials?

When Harry knocked, they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang – back!"

Hagrid managed to open the door with one hand, the other keeping hold of Fang's collar as the great dog struggled to tackle the children and welcome them with wet, slobbery kisses.

"Make yerselves at home," he welcomed, closing the door and finally releasing Fang. It bounded towards Ron and started licking his ears.

Disgusted, Ron managed to nudge the dog away. Alex accepted him with open arms. His tail thudded against the hut loudly as he dragged his tongue over her face enthusiastically.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." He glanced at Alex curiously, his eyes lingering on the proud green tie peeking out from beneath her robe.

"Alexandra Fortescue," she said with a smile.

Hagrid's eyes lit up in recognition. "Yeh must be the owner of little Spitfire 'ere. Hang on a sec, I'll get 'im."

Though Spitfire was a fully-grown cat, his whole body was the size of Hagrid's palm. Hagrid placed him down before Alex with a gentleness that belied his appearance. "Was on a walk with Fang when suddenly this black blur starts attackin' 'im! They got in a bit of a tussle before I could separate 'em, and Spitfire was hurt, so I took care of 'im in the meanwhile."

As if to apologise, Fang gave Spitfire a lick. It didn't have the intended effect, though, as the latter simply hissed. Whimpering, Fang trotted towards Harry, resting his chin on his knee and drooling like no tomorrow.

"You idiot," Alex muttered, running her fingers over Spitfire. His tail and one of his paws were bandaged, but other than that—and the wear on his emerald collar—he seemed okay. She looked up at the kind man in front of her. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said softly.

Hagrid looked at her for a moment before nodding. "So," he said brightly, turning to the boys, "how was yer first week?"

As it turned out, their first week was far from glamorous. Ron and Harry liked to complain – a _lot_. They complained about the classes, and especially about Filch. Alex also learned that Hagrid was a terrible liar. When Harry mentioned how he thought Snape hated him in particular, Hagrid wouldn't meet Harry's eyes as he denied such a claim. He also changed the subject rather hurriedly. Not to mention how badly he reacted when Harry picked up the news article on the table, detailing the Gringotts break-in on the same day as Harry's birthday. Fortunately, Alex was there to save the day.

"It was your birthday?" she gasped. "Harry, you never told me."

Harry twirled a rock cake in his hand. "It's not a big deal."

"Of course it is. Here." Rummaging through the pockets of her robes, Alex finally found some coupons. "For the shop."

Laughing, Harry accepted it, distracted from the suspicious Gringotts incident for the time being.

Alex rested her hand on Spitfire's back. She needed to be much more cautious about her friends from now on.

* * *

After that day, Alex found herself visiting Hagrid and Fang more often. Out of politeness, she had accepted a rock cake from the courteous host, and now her teeth were smarting. She ran her tongue over the sore spots, wondering if she should bother Madam Pomfrey, when Spitfire leapt out of her arms and ran off.

"Hey!" she called after him. The little idiot had only just finished healing, too. Sighing, Alex jogged after her trouble-bound cat. She wondered if Hagrid wanted to trade pets.

Spitfire, the gluttonous thing he was, had rushed into the Great Hall, despite the fact that he had dinner mere moments ago. "You're gonna eat yourself sick," she muttered beneath her breath, keeping her eyes peeled for him.

Naturally, he was at the Gryffindor table. Spitfire was in Harry's lap, yowling at him for some food. Flustered, Harry looked around wildly. Relief flooded through him when he noticed her.

"Sorry," she said, grabbing her cat. "He loves food a little too much." She couldn't help but shoot a look at Ron, who was oblivious to the world as he stuffed his face.

"Have you eaten?" asked Harry. "I haven't seen you all day."

She nodded. "I have. So has Spit, actually," she grumbled, tapping her finger on her cat's damp nose.

Feeling an intense, unabashed gaze on her, Alex turned. A girl with crazy, bushy hair was staring excitedly at Spitfire. "Hello," Alex said curiously. "Would you like to pat him?"

The girl stammered out a yes. Alex was forced to sit next to Harry in order to reach over the table to pass her pet to none other than Hermione Granger. She received more than a few glances at that, but that was nothing new.

Hermione cooed and doted on Spitfire. Rather than trying to squirm away like he did with everyone else, Spitfire basked in her attention. Then again, he was probably buttering her up for treats. The same trick never failed to work with Dad. Every. Single. Time.

"I don't think you're getting your cat back any time soon," noted Harry as he resumed his dinner.

Alex sighed. "True."

A plate appeared before her, and Alex shrugged before grabbing some rolls. She might as well snack some more while Spitfire conned Hermione.

"So," she said, buttering a roll, "what did you get up to today?"

Harry grinned. "I made Seeker."

Alex smiled, genuinely happy for him. "Your dad was a Chaser, you know."

"Really?" Harry said, turning to gape at her. "How d'you know?"

"It was in some book." She shrugged apologetically. "Think he was a good one, too, so hopefully that trait was passed onto you."

"Of course it'll be," scoffed Ron, sending a fleck of corn flying in her direction. "Harry's only a first-year and he's already made the team!"

As if on cue, Draco Malfoy himself sauntered over towards them, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter?" he said snidely. God, she hated his voice. "When are you getting the train back to the muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. Ah, there was that Gryffindor 'bravery'. Alex supposed Harry's sass was acceptable in this case, since Malfoy and his goons could do nothing more than crack their knuckles and scowl while in direct view of the High Table.

Of course, Malfoy didn't stop there. He challenged Harry to a wizard's duel, capitalising on Harry's confusion to mock him for not even knowing what it was. Fortunately, Ron swooped in, claiming he'd be his second while Malfoy chose Crabbe.

"Midnight all right?" he asked rhetorically. "We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked." Without another word, he strode off, his goons following obediently.

Alex rolled her eyes once he left. "'What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?'" she mocked, imitating Malfoy's snobbish voice. "Like's he ever heard of half the things in the muggle world."

Appreciative chuckles rang around her, and Alex was pleasantly surprised to note that it didn't come from just Harry and Ron. Hermione had paused in tickling Spitfire's chin, and gave her a contemplative look.

Alex turned to her with a small smile, ignoring Harry and Ron's discussion about the duel. "I'm Alexandra Fortescue. I see you're fond of Spitfire."

"An interesting name," Hermione said, smiling. "I'm Hermione Granger. Are you a muggle-born too?"

Technically… "Half," she said. "But I know more of the muggle world than all of my House combined."

"You don't seem too fond of them," she observed.

"You mean I'm not obsessed with House loyalty and all that garbage?" She scoffed. "All that does is establish petty rivalries and the basis of discrimination, as you can tell." She cut her eyes to Harry and Ron, who were now detailing what Malfoy's face would look like once they punched it.

"That's a unique perspective." Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before sniffing at the boys. "Excuse me," she said, her voice suddenly growing much colder and much ruder. Alex reeled from the one-eighty as Hermione continued: "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying—"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"—and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Goodbye," added Ron.

"You really should listen to her," interjected Alex, feeling sorry for Hermione. "Why're you so eager to pick a fight, anyhow? Harry, you've just arrived here, and you already want to engage in a wizard's duel? Do you even know any duelling spells?"

Harry looked put-out. "I can just use my fists, can't I?"

"So Malfoy can use his bruises as an excuse to get you into trouble?"

"Why're you picking on Harry?" exploded Ron. "Siding with your fellow snake, are you? If Harry doesn't show, he's going to be called a coward!"

"Fine," she snapped. "But I'm coming with."

"What? Why?"

"Because Harry's my friend," she said simply. "And I could crush you lot in a wizarding duel any day."

It was 11.30pm, and Alex was outside the Gryffindor common room. Or, more accurately, she was in front of the painting that was meant to hold the Fat Lady. It was a distasteful name which Alex wanted to rectify, but the person in question was presently missing, so she would have to save her efforts for next time.

She probably should have waited at the actual location instead, but she didn't trust the boys to get there themselves. The door to the common room popped open, and Alex tensed despite the fact she was under the disillusionment spell. When two familiar heads of red and black hair, followed by one of brown, came out, she calmed down and undid the spell.

Hermione, who had been in the middle of lecturing the boys, cut herself off with a squeak of surprise. "Alexandra?" she asked, stunned. "How did you do that?"

"Disillusionment charm," she explained offhandedly. "Never mind that, you guys are making way too much noise for such a delicate mission."

"S'not us," protested Ron. " _She's_ the loud one. Won't stop nagging us."

"Quiet," ordered Harry. "I think I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling noise and, instead of heading _away_ from the source like people with brains would, the Golden Trio crept towards it. Alex had her wand out in the open, but it turned out she didn't need it. It was simply Neville, who was curled up asleep on the cold tiles. As they approached, though, he jolted awake.

"Thank goodness you found me!" he sighed. "I've been out here for hours; I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville," scolded Hermione. Hm. She did a lot of that. "The password's 'pig snout' but it won't help you now – the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"Don't call her that," Alex said, frowning.

"How's your arm?" asked Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them his unmarked appendage. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Why didn't you ask for help once you realised you didn't know the password?" Alex asked, bemused.

Even in the darkness of night, Alex could see Neville's blush. "I didn't know who to ask," he admitted quietly.

"Oh. Well, next time you should seek Professor McGonagall out. She's your Head of House, right?"

The Gryffindors nodded their heads, but half of them looked impatient as they did so. "Well, look, Neville," began Harry, "we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone. The Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Alex pursed her lips, feeling the need to stick up for one of her allies. "The Baron's alright." She shrugged as the others eyed her like she had sprouted another head. "You guys go. I'll stay here with – Neville, was it? Alexandra Fortescue. Hope you don't mind."

Even though she was in her pyjamas—a plain grey top with black pants—as opposed to her uniform, Neville was still wary of her, and looked very much like he minded. He didn't have much choice in the matter, though, as Ron hastily capitalised on her scapegoat and ran like the wind. Though somewhat worried, Alex had a feeling they would be alright.

Neville was trembling like a leaf on a windy day, and Alex wasn't sure if it was due to the cold seeping into the castle or the perpetual gloom Hogwarts adopted at night. (Or maybe it was her presence. Nah.)

"Do you know where McGonagall's office is?"

Neville nodded hesitantly. "It's on the first floor. Next to the stairs."

"Lead the way."

They walked in silence, Alex indifferent and Neville nervous. Feeling bad for him, she made small talk.

"How d'you find Hogwarts so far?" she asked politely.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "The classes are hard, and the people can be…"

"Gits?" she offered.

Surprised, Neville smiled slightly. "Something like that. Um, what House are you in, Alexandra?"

"Guess."

Neville thought for a moment. "Ravenclaw?"

"Ew. No."

"Uh, Hufflepuff?"

"Nope."

"So…that means…" Neville swallowed audibly. "Slytherin?"

"Bingo." She flashed him a toothy smile. "It's okay. I don't bite."

She couldn't help teasing Neville; he made it too easy. It was a good thing that they were nearing Professor McGonagall's office, because Neville looked close to whimpering.

Alex knocked on the door twice. There was a bit of a rustle, and McGonagall opened the door. She was wearing a plain cream robe, her face pinched up with irritation.

"Mr Longbottom?" she asked crisply. "Miss Fortescue? What in Merlin's name are you doing at my office at this hour?"

Seeing how Neville was remaining painfully silent, Alex piped up. "I was looking for my cat, professor, when I found Neville here locked out of the common room. Seemed like the painting guarding it was missing."

Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated but unsurprised. The Lady must have loved her nightly walks. "She should be back by now. Let's go."

Neville scurried after the professor, scrambling to keep up with her long strides. Alex walked a bit more sedately, keeping an eye open on their surroundings – or as much as was visible due to both her and the professor's combined _lumos_ es.

They ran into no one on their way back, and were soon back at Gryffindor Tower. Perhaps not wanting to expose the common room to her, Professor McGonagall said, "I trust you are able to find your own way back to the Slytherin common room, Miss Fortescue? It is extremely late, after all, and while your pet may be missing, cats are rather independent creatures. It'll appear sooner or later."

Alex frowned at the blatant dismissal, but kept her lips locked tight. She simply nodded and left, checking the time as she did so. It was almost midnight, and the trophy room _was_ on the way to the dungeons…

It was a few minutes past midnight when Alex reached the trophy room. Slowly and quietly, she pushed open the door. She was greeted by a wand to the face.

"It's just me," she grumbled.

"Alex!" Harry hastily lowered his wand. "Why are you here? What happened to Neville?"

"We—"

Hermione shushed them, pressing a finger against her lips as she cocked her head to the side. That was when they heard it – a pair of heavy footsteps, followed by someone muttering, "Sniff around, my sweet. They might be lurking in a corner."

Alex felt a chill run down her spine. She knew that voice. Almost every student knew that voice. It belonged to Filch, the school's bitter and vengeful caretaker.

She slipped out of the doorway, the other three quickly following suit. The was no time to close the door; they had all just cleared the room when they heard Filch come in through the other entrance, grumbling away.

Alex nervously eyed the corridor they were in. It was lined with nothing but suits of armour.

"This way," mouth Harry, and they were forced to creep down the long gallery.

Alex could hear a soft pit-patter that didn't match any of their footsteps. Feeling like she was in a horror movie, she slowly looked back. A pair of red eyes landed on her as Mrs Norris rounded the corner.

"The cat!" she warned.

They took off in a run, throwing caution to the wind as they tried to evade the cat who served as eyes and ears for Filch.

Harry was in the lead now. He ripped through a tapestry—perhaps to hide—which turned out to be a hidden passageway. They hurtled along it and came out near the Charms classroom, which was a long stretch away from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," panted Harry. He wiped away the sweat on his forehead.

Alex steadied her breaths as Hermione scolded the boys for falling into Malfoy's trap. Judging by Harry's face, he knew she was right, but there was no way he would admit that.

"Let's just get back to the tower," grumbled Ron. But they had barely travelled two metres when a doorknob rattled and something milky white emerged from the classroom.

It was Peeves, who squealed in delight upon seeing them.

Harry and Hermione begged and pleaded with Peeves to keep quiet, but this only caused him to cackle and taunt them. Seeing the mounting impatience on Ron's face, Alex intervened. "Hello, Peeves," she said cordially.

"It's you," he said, sounding neither pleased nor displeased. "Leading these ickle firsties out and about during midnight, hm? Tut, tut, such a baaaaad influence."

Alex smiled sharply. "Yes, well, good girls don't make deals with poltergeists, now do they? What do you want in exchange for keeping mum?"

Peeves drifted through the air, his form practically illuminating the entire hallway as he adopted what she supposed was a thoughtful pose. "Cake," he decided. "One rotten and one fresh."

Ron sneered. "Why would you want a fresh one? You can't even taste it."

Peeves grinned, and it wasn't a pleasant one. "To lob it at annoying children like you, of course."

"Deal," Alex said quickly.

"Yeah, now get out of the way," snapped Ron. To make matters worse, he actually tried to swipe at Peeves.

Alex's defeated sigh was lost among Peeve's screams of, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

They were running again. Alex was tempted to trip Ron and leave him to fend off Filch alone, but she had a feeling Harry would do something noble and stupid and stop to help him up.

They reached the end of the corridor, slamming into a door – but it was locked. Wand already in hand, Alex murmured, " _Alohomora_ ". Since they had been pushing at the door at the time, the moment it swung open, Ron and Harry toppled in and onto the floor. She traded a smile with Hermione, who looked a touch more annoyed than amused.

The Gryffindors shut the door quickly and pressed their ears against it. Meanwhile, Alex glanced at the corridor they were in. Her eyes fell upon an enormous, three-headed dog. She grinned.

"Fluffy!" she crowed, delighted. All three faces looked confused, recognising the name Hagrid had bestowed upon it.

She wanted to pat it so bad. It was a good thing Harry pulled them out of the room when he did, though, because Alex probably would have lost a good chunk of her body otherwise. Fluffy snarled and growled fiercely as they shut the door in its faces.

Alex would have been content to find her way back to the dungeons from there, but the Gryffindors were running again, this time because of something much more frightening than Filch. She had no choice but to follow, her body protesting the entire way.

"Enough," she finally choked out a few minutes later. "Magical dog or not, I doubt it has the ability to shrink itself enough to fit through that door."

Seeing the logic in her words, the others paused. Their shoulders and chests heaved with each breath they took, causing their bathrobes to droop slightly.

She was the first to regain her breath. "Well," she sighed, "that was an adventure. I don't know about you, but I have class tomorrow. Good night."

The trio of first-years were so tired they could do no more than nod. Alex walked off, headed not to her common room but to the Room of Requirement. When she had snuck out of her dorm earlier that night, she did so quietly and stealthily, with a touch of magic so that no one could tell anything was amiss in the thick of night. Now, though, she was drained – both physically and spiritually. She'd run more tonight than she had in the past few _years_. There was no way she would pull off sneaking back in.

As she walked, she thought about Fluffy, as Harry, Ron and Hermione were no doubt doing right at that moment. Why would Dumbledore place such a flawed security device there for anyone with half a brain to notice? Most students knew the unlocking charm, and it wouldn't be too difficult to get past Fluffy. A few stunners here, a few curses there, or even the elusive music tactic and _bam_. Guard dog defanged.

Unless Dumbledore wanted to catch the thief red-handed? He made it no secret that Hogwarts was hiding something this year, not with the way he asked Hagrid of all people to retrieve the Stone itself. The half-giant was loyal, sure, but he wouldn't be Alex's first choice if discretion was her aim. It was clear Dumbledore wanted to publicise this, but why involve the students? He could have easily held a staff meeting and warned the professors about the third floor… Or did he suspect the students too?

Alex climbed into the replica of her bed and sighed, knowing sleep would have to wait.


	11. Trolls and the Trio

Chapter Eleven

 _Trolls and the Trio_

There were plenty of times when Alex wished she hadn't been reborn. Sometimes it was when she was on the cusp of a mental breakdown as she tried to correlate this world with the other, or when she attempted to solve the puzzle that was her current life. The most current cause of her despair was the red-stained toilet paper she was currently flushing down.

Death was supposed to be the _end_ of all this crap. Of course her period had arrived on Halloween, of all days. She hated the holiday tremendously ever since last year. Fortunately, it was almost over. She had gone through the entire day without being harassed by any ghosts, although she caught a few of them eyeing her hungrily. One of the House ghosts was always nearby, though, curbing their interest as well as her fear. Alex smiled at each of them gratefully, even if the Grey Lady ignored her every time.

The one bright spot among the darkness that was her dread of Halloween was Cedric. He had spent most of the day with her, forgoing lunch in the hall in favour of surprising her with his presence in the kitchen. He was worried, he explained, because of what happened last Halloween. He also added that it was mostly because it was their one-year anniversary since they first met. Alex snorted and rolled her eyes playfully. They hung out in the Room of Requirement for the rest of the afternoon, before he had to leave so as to keep his friends from worrying. (More like to keep them from assuming he was with her and kicking up a huge fuss like the babies they were.)

Scowling, Alex pushed the door of the stall a bit too forcefully. She winced as it crashed into the wall with a resounding _bang_. Her guilt only increased when someone in the bathroom began to sniffle.

"Sorry," she murmured, trying to make as little noise as possible as she crept over to the sinks.

It was only when she twisted the tap closed that her ears picked up the sobs. Startled, she inched closer to the source. What should she do? She didn't want to ask "Are you okay?" because the crying girl clearly wasn't, and that question tended to make people even more upset in the first place, so Alex settled for a flustered, "Is there anything I can do?"

"A-Alexandra?"

Alex flinched. "Hermione?" She pressed a still-damp hand against the door of the only occupied stall in the bathroom. "Is that you? What happened?"

Hermione gave a heart-wrenching hiccup. "It's nothing," she said tearfully.

"Are you sure? Because it must be something, if you're missing your first Hogwarts Halloween for this." Alex began to describe all the wonderful decorations, gimmicks and treats that filled the Great Hall for one day every year. She was even considering popping down for a few minutes, if only to soak up the atmosphere.

"That sounds wonderful," admitted Hermione, sounding somewhat calmer.

"There's only one way to find out."

"I…I suppose." The door finally opened. Hermione emerged, her eyes red and her cheeks decorated with drying tear tracks.

Alex smiled slightly. "It's best to wash your face after a cry, yeah?"

Nodding, Hermione followed Alex to the sink. The bushy-haired girl splashed her face with water, while Alex silently thanked Merlin that everyone was preoccupied with the feast, reducing the amount of people who would walk in and humiliate Hermione even further.

Alex twirled her wand in her hand as Hermione finished up. There were no paper towels left, so she plucked two locks of her dark hair and attempted to transfigure it. It took a lot more power and concentration than she'd like to admit, and the paper towel might have been a little rough and dark at the end, but she got the job done, at least.

Hermione stared, wide-eyed, as she dabbed her hands with the towel. "Will I be able to do this in second year?"

"Transfiguration's my worst subject," said Alex, shrugging. "You'll probably get it down by this year."

Rather than looking elated, though, Hermione stared at Alex speculatively. "You're very kind, Alexandra," she said, although it didn't sound like a compliment.

"Um. Thank you?"

Hermione shook her head, her wild hair bouncing slightly as she did so. "Sorry, I don't mean to offend, it's just that people say some things about your House. Nasty things."

"People say nasty things about everyone and everything, Hermione. Not all of it's true."

"I know," she replied, a little indignant. "It's just hard when some Slytherins act just like their stereotype."

Alex huffed. "Don't I know it," she muttered. "Still, I find it best to reserve judgement until you actually speak to someone."

"Yes," she said quietly, her eyes on her shoes. "Anyone is capable of meanness."

After checking it was dry, Alex leaned against a sink. "What happened?" she asked, though she suspected she already knew.

Her suspicions were confirmed as Hermione recounted the events that led to her bathroom breakdown. She'd been trying to help out Ron in Charms, and instead of being grateful, he sulked and called her a nightmare behind her back. Except it was basically to her front, as she was right behind him the entire time.

"I was going to make amends with him," she confessed, looking close to tears once more. "I-I've realised that I can be a bit overbearing and condescending, and I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings…"

Alex sighed. "Boys are idiots, Hermione. Especially Gryffindor ones."

Hermione managed a smile, but it was short-lived, as something chose to barge into the bathroom at that very moment.

The smell hit her first. Alex gagged as a putrid odour worse than a thousand dung-bombs assaulted her senses. The sight of the source only made her want to vomit even more.

It was a troll. Alex had to crane her head up to even glimpse at its bloodshot, mucus-covered eyes. The troll blinked back stupidly at her, and Alex knew it was only moments away from using its long arms to reach for its club and knock them dead.

So she acted first. Swinging up her wand, she cried, " _Stupefy_!"

A jet of red light shot out, but it wasn't strong enough in either colour or power. It sank into the tough skin of the troll, who simply scratched at the spot as if it were mildly itchy. Then, without warning, it lunged.

Alex bit back a scream as she dodged the heavy club. Hermione had no such compunctions, releasing a petrified shriek as the sinks exploded into a shower of copper and porcelain. The troll was blocking the only exit, so they were forced to play a game of cat-and-mouse. Alex threw curses and hexes as she weaved in and out of the troll's path, managing to land a few hits as she did so. In the end, though, the much bigger and much stronger creature forced both her and Hermione into a corner, their backs against the wall as they waited for the inevitable.

" _Protego_." A thin film emerged from Alex's wand, and she hoped the shield would be enough to ward off the worst of the attacks.

And then something unexpected happened.

"Oi, pea-brain!" A metal pipe was thrown against the troll's head, but it didn't flinch. What drew its attention was the yell, and the appearance of two new victims.

Hermione was torn between gaping at either Harry and Ron or the troll, and so try as she might, Alex couldn't get her to budge. "Hermione!" she snapped over the din of burst pipes. She tugged harshly on the girl's arm. "Let's _go_. We need to run."

The troll shook its head wildly, as if to shake off all the noise. Agitated, it roared furiously and started towards Ron. Alex could almost see Harry's brain shutting down as he ran and jumped onto the troll's back. She didn't know if it was on purpose or not, but the wand he was holding at the time was now jammed up the troll's nose. A hysterical little laugh bubbled up inside her.

It died on the way up her throat when the troll howled and twisted and flailed. Harry was barely clinging on, Hermione was sinking to the floor in shock, and Ron – his wand was out, pointed at the troll, and yelled—almost randomly—" _Wingardium leviosa_!"

The mangled club flew out of the troll's meaty hand, rising almost to the ceiling until Ron released the spell. It fell with the force of a tiny meteor, dropping with a sickening crack onto its owner's head. The troll swayed dangerously, with Harry's body still locked around its neck.

Calming herself, Alex quickly whispered, " _Mobilicorpus_. Let go, Harry."

Harry obeyed, releasing his death-grip on the troll just as it crashed onto the ground with enough force to crack the remaining mirrors. It was only when the adrenaline petered out a bit that Alex realised her mistake.

"I don't know how to get you down," she said blankly.

Harry stared down at her as he hovered above her. "You'd better figure it out soon," he mumbled, "because I might be sick."

Alex looked to the others for help, but found that they were going to be useless. Ron had become a statue, his wand still raised as he gaped at what he had done. Hermione was still on the ground, dazed and terrified.

She had just decided to head to the infirmary when the cavalry arrived. Everyone looked alive as Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell burst into the room, the latter whimpering upon the sight of the comatose troll as he collapsed onto one of the toilets.

Alex tried not to sneer at the man. The bastard and his shoddy plan came close to killing them all – and for what? To resurrect an evil wizard who would sooner kill him than acknowledge him? No matter, though. Alex maintained her focus on Harry. Quirrell would get what was coming to him in time.

"Miss Fortescue," drawled Snape, "as pleasant as the sight may be, what is Potter doing suspended in the air?"

Alex felt her face heat up at the sudden attention of everyone in the room. "It's a long story," she said. "Also, I don't know how to release the spell without hurting him." Which was kind of the reason she used the spell in the first place.

Snape took his sweet time counteracting the spell, and Harry landed none too gently on his feet. The former didn't apologise and the latter didn't thank him. Well, at least they weren't too hostile, right?

"What were you all thinking?!" demanded Professor McGonagall. The Gryffindors shrunk back as their head of House chewed them out, and Alex attempted to appear scolded. Judging by Snape's unimpressed look, she wouldn't be pursuing a career in the acting department any time soon.

Hermione took a shaky step forward. "Please, Professor, they were looking for me."

Professor McGonagall all but gasped in shock. "Miss Granger!"

"I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I've read all about them."

Alex tried her best to keep from slapping herself in the face. Compared to Hermione, she was the best actress in the room. Almost all the professors knew of Hermione Granger in the short time she'd been in Hogwarts: she was smart and practical, and although she was Sorted into a House famous for its rowdiness and disobedience, Hermione idolised rules and adults and would never do something as ridiculous as chase after a troll.

But here she was, lying to the professors to save her friends.

"Alexandra was already in the bathroom the same time the troll came in," she continued anxiously. "If Ron and Harry hadn't found me, we'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish us off when they arrived."

Professor McGonagall looked flustered, perhaps because she had made the same conclusion as Alex. After deducting five points from Gryffindor and expressing her disappointment, she sent Hermione off to her common room, where the others were finishing the feast.

When she left, she turned to the remaining students. "You three should consider yourselves lucky. Not many students could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each get five points to your Houses."

Harry and Ron lit up, and Alex couldn't help but glance at Snape, noting that he would never reward such foolish bravery. Professor McGonagall warned them that Professor Dumbledore would be informed before dismissing them for the night.

The hurried out of the chamber, if only to get away from the stench. Alex took a tentative sniff of her robes. Ugh. She was going to be smelling of troll for the next week, give or take.

"How's your wand, Harry?" she asked at the end of the corridor.

Harry gazed at his wand with a mixture of disgust and sadness. "Covered in troll bogeys," he replied glumly.

"Hold it out for me. _Scourgify_." All visible signs of the grey mucus were gone. "It's not completely clean, and it might smell a bit, so make sure to polish and clean it properly."

Harry nodded, pleased, as he tucked his wand away.

Alex wanted to do nothing more than shower and sleep, but she had something to say. "Make sure you apologise to Hermione. Thank her as well."

"What?" cried Ron, incredulous. "We're the ones who saved her!"

"She wouldn't have been there in the first place if someone hadn't gone and made an insensitive comment, would she?"

Ron ducked his head, slightly chastised. Harry nudged him with his elbow. "Yeah, alright," he grumbled with no small amount of reluctance.

Alex nodded. "Good."

* * *

The day of the first quidditch game of the year dawned bright and clear. A tangible air of excitement settled onto the student body, save for a few disinterested individuals. Alex was one of them.

However, today's match was a special exception. It was Harry's first official game, and Alex decided it was worth the insane screams and scathing grumbles of her Housemates.

Something bright and colourful caught her eye, and Alex ducked her grin beneath her Slytherin scarf at the sight of the Gryffindor first years holding a banner reading "POTTER FOR PRESIDENT". Someone had painted a lion under the caption, and the entire banner flashed through several colours, settled for the typical red and gold, before going through another cycle.

The crowd of spectators roared enthusiastically as both teams emerged, the loudest being the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Even she got swept up in the madness, clapping and grinning along (most of it was due to Lee Jordan's interesting commentary, however). She was actually starting to enjoy herself when Harry's broom decided to lurch madly.

The smile slipped off her face, even as a few of her Housemates grew excited. Alex gripped her binoculars tightly as she directed her eyes away from Harry's buckling form to the teachers' stand. Quirrell's face was hard as he stared at Harry, his lips steadfast and locked tight. That would have deflected most people's suspicion, except Alex knew for a fact that there was more than met the eye in regards to that man.

Instead, it was Snape who was muttering something – an incantation, no doubt. With his determined glare and dark aura, it would be all too easy to assume he was the one jinxing his least favourite student.

Alex flicked her wrist, allowing her wand to shoot into her hand. She kept it there, ready in case Harry lost his already loose grip on his broom. She needn't have worried, though, because there was a sudden fire at the teachers' stand, distracting the caster and effectively cancelling the spell.

The game ended soon after that. Harry caught the Snitch with his mouth and, after basking in the pride of his House—and that of Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's, because it was better them than the Slytherins—was dragged towards Hagrid's hut by Hermione and Ron.

Alex thought about following them. Harry's friends weren't exactly hers, and they hadn't stopped to invite her either. In fact, they barely talked at all, only when they ran into each other. She'd admit she was a bit hurt by Harry's growing disinterest towards her, but Alex supposed she should've been used to it now.

Still, she still needed to thank Hagrid for saving Spitfire. And it didn't hurt that she wanted to play with Fang a bit. Deciding the time was as good as ever, Alex followed the Golden Trio.

Hagrid looked distressed when he let her in but, judging by the glances he stole at the trio, it had nothing to with her. Assured, Alex smiled at Hagrid and handed him a gift bag. "This is a thank-you for saving Spitfire the other day," she said.

Surprise lit up Hagrid's face, following quickly by a smile. "Why, thank yeh, Alexandra! Come in, come in. Get outta th' cold."

Alex obeyed, glad to finally cancel out the warming charm. It drained her magic at an alarming rate. She barely acknowledged the Gryffindors, her mind set on Fang. The slobbery dog bounded towards her, tackling her with affection and kisses.

Chuckling, Alex wrapped her arms around the big dog and ruffled his head. "I missed you, too, Fang."

"Fang!" boomed Hagrid, delighted. "Look at what Alexandra got yeh!"

The mass of fur and drool got off of her and wove itself around Hagrid excitedly. With a wave of her wand, Alex cleaned most of the mess from her face as watched Fang inspect the midnight blue collar she had bought for him. It was an ordinary one – it wasn't remotely magical – but that didn't mean anything less to either Fang or his owner.

Alex grabbed a seat next to Hermione as Hagrid finally clicked the collar into place around Fang's neck. Fang a few appreciative licks to Hagrid's hand before trotting over to her. He settled his chin on her knee as she reached for some tea and rock cakes.

"Good catch today, Harry," she said, once the trio broke out of their hushed, huddled whispers.

Harry grinned, still riding the high of his win. "Thanks, Alex."

"Fluffy!" Hermione burst out suddenly. "Alexandra, back when we saw the three-headed dog, you said its name!"

Alex feigned bemusement. "I was only commenting on its appearance, Hermione. It was as fluffy and cute as Fang here," she said, running her fingers through Fang's fur.

"Not again," groaned Hagrid. He sent an incredulous look towards Alex. "Before yeh got 'ere, these three were interrogatin' me about Fluffy and what he's hidin'."

Alex dipped a rock cake into her tea. "I know what he's guarding."

"You do?" asked Ron. He practically leapt up in excitement. "What is it?"

She smiled. "Professor Dumbledore's chocolate frog card collection."

Harry and Hermione appeared crestfallen, if slightly amused, but Ron looked as if she had stabbed him in the back and broken his heart all in one go. Alex shrugged apologetically. "If it makes you feel better," she said, "it's a pretty rare one."

But Ron wasn't listening to her anymore. "Well, whatever it is, Snape wants it for sure."

Alex rolled her eyes. Snape would rather maim himself than pursue immortality.

"Don't roll your eyes," snapped Ron. "Your head of House was jinxing Harry's broom today! He was trying to kill him!"

"It's true," confessed Hermione, and she had the humility to look at least a little upset. "I saw him; his eyes were on Harry the whole time, and he was mumbling something."

"Harry's right here, by the way," she said dryly. "And how do you know Snape wasn't countering the spell? Besides, he's a Slytherin; he wouldn't kill Harry in such an obvious and easily thwarted manner."

"Thanks, Alex," groaned Harry, head in his hands.

"You're not going to die, Harry," she assured him. "Dumbledore would sooner set the school on fire than let that happen."

There was a beat of silence.

Hermione gave her a look. "You're a tad violent," she noted.

Smiling, Alex sipped her tea.


	12. A Warty Hog's Christmas

**A/N:** Thank you all for the reviews! My motivation grew with each incremental increase of the review count lol. My personal favourite was left by Guest, which simply said "h". Truly touching.

As always, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twelve

 _A Warty Hog's Christmas_

It began snowing in mid-December, which made reading beneath her favourite tree much more difficult. When it first snowed, Alex stubbornly went out anyway, armed with a thick sheet and layers of clothing. In addition to a warming charm, she needed a drying spell each time the melted snow seeped into the sheet beneath her. Alex didn't read much in the end, but at least she got to see Fred and George toss armfuls of snowballs at Voldemort (even if they thought it was merely the back of Quirrell's head).

Alex couldn't even write to her parents. Students were advised to limit letter-sending, for the owls that managed to fight their way through the harsh weather had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before being deemed fit for the owlery again.

The last letter they had exchanged was from her mum and dad. It explained how things were getting busier at work for the former, while the latter spend most of his free time visiting his ill friend. They didn't explicitly say it, but Alex had a feeling she'd be spending Christmas at Hogwarts this year.

Spitfire squirmed in her arms, and Alex looked around for the source of his agitation. Her eyes landed on a shock of blonde hair. Malfoy and his goons were marching over to Harry and co., looking ready to start a fight. Clicking her tongue, Alex set down Spitfire. "Go bother the blonde, Spit," she ordered. Her cat happily sprinted towards the pesky weasel.

Whatever Malfoy was saying was interrupted by Spitfire, who wove around his legs before jumping up and scrambling up him like the tree Hagrid was holding. As Alex drew closer, she could hear his spluttered commands for Crabbe and Goyle to get rid of Spit, who easily danced in and out of their hands. Harry, Ron and Hermione laughed openly and unabashedly at the sight.

"Come here, boy," said Alex, arms open. Spitfire used Malfoy's head as a launch pad, knocking him off-balance for a moment, and settled back into her grip. "Was my cat bothering you, Malfoy?" she asked coolly.

"Fortescue," he grumbled. He probably didn't know how to treat her; she was a Slytherin, but she didn't care for him much, unlike the others. They all either feared or respected the Malfoy line in one way or another, but Alex simply didn't care. "Keep better control of your mangy cat."

"Of course."

Off-kilter due to her interruption, Malfoy left, but not without a parting glare at Harry and not without jostling the tree, sending needles everywhere.

"Prat," she muttered, Vanishing the litter as Spitfire moved to Hermione. "Did you guys have class with him just then?"

"Yeah," spat Ron, "and he was making fun of Harry, too."

Alex glanced at Harry, who was focused intensely on Hagrid as he shifted the tree into a more comfortable position. "Yeah?" she asked. "Was it because he was jealous of Harry's record-breaking, never-before-seen, legendary quidditch skills?"

Harry grew red, but she wasn't sure whether it was out of embarrassment or the laughter he was barely containing. Alex smirked to herself as Hagrid informed them he was headed to the Great Hall, which would no doubt look lovely in preparation for the holidays.

Alex watched avidly as golden bubbles blossomed from Professor Flitwick's wand as he waved it around the tree. The freshly-made baubles settled nicely onto the branches. She wondered if he'd be willing to teach her the spell.

"There's a half-hour until lunch," noted Hermione. "We should be getting to the library."

"The library?" echoed Hagrid, surprised. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel, we've been trying to find out who he is."

"Yeh what?" Hagrid seemed flabbergasted. "Listen here—I've told yeh–drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," reasoned Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere—just give us a hint—I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, shrugging.

"Want to come, Alex?" asked Harry.

"We could use the help," added Hermione.

Alex shook her head with a frown. "No, thanks. Besides, you guys really should respect Hagrid's wishes. Curiosity killed the cat and all that."

Harry and Ron looked uneasy, but Hermione remained steadfast as she declared, "Satisfaction brought it back." They shared a look before speeding off towards the library, leaving Hagrid disgruntled and Alex disappointed but unsurprised.

She looked to Hagrid. "Do you need help with anything?"

* * *

"Hey, Cedric," she said, stepping into the Room of Requirement. "I brought some snacks."

"Thanks," Cedric replied, smiling. He happily accepted the crisps. "Are you going home for the holidays again?"

Alex shook her head as she sat on the floor next to him. The room was the same as always, except the colours were more Christmas-like: red and green. She tore open a bag of crisps. "Parents are busy, so I'm staying in the castle."

Cedric frowned. "That's a shame."

"You?"

"Going home."

Alex sighed. "That's a shame."

Cedric chuckled, flopping onto the rug and soaking in the warmth of the fire for a few moments. "It's Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw once everyone gets back," he informed her.

"Your first game." Alex worked out the kink in her neck. "Nervous?"

"A bit," he admitted. "It's hard being Seeker when the previous one pretty much blows everyone out of the water."

Alex inspected Cedric's face carefully. Last time, when she told him she went to the game, he had seemed…put-off.

"You never go to the matches," he said, astonished.

She had shrugged and said, "It was Harry's first game."

"What about mine?" he had asked, an odd expression creeping up on his face.

Alex eyed him like he had grown a second head. "Don't be weird," she said, uncomfortable. "Of course I'm going."

Cedric had lit up like a Christmas tree.

 _Hufflepuffs_. She would never understand them.

"I still can't believe you're good mates with Harry Potter." Cedric smiled. "So bizarre."

"I don't understand why," she said, sniffy pompously, "seeing how we're both warriors of love and justice."

"Right," laughed Cedric. "Whatever you say."

She made a face at him, and he only laughed harder.

* * *

Christmas at Hogwarts wasn't so bad, Alex discovered. All of her roommates had gone home for the break, meaning she was free to sleep as erratically as she wanted. Though the urge to snoop around was tempting, Alex was much too respectful of their privacy to do so. Besides, it was practically a given that the other beds and drawers were rigged with jinxes and hexes to keep out those with sticky beaks.

The sight of presents surprised her. It was a much larger haul than last year. Excited, Alex placed the gifts into her bag, scooped Spitfire into her arms, and headed straight towards Gryffindor tower. She, Ron and Harry had decided to wait and open them together.

Alex shivered slightly as she walked. In addition to her sleepwear, she also donned a large, fluffy sweater and bunny slippers. Perhaps not the most practical of clothing, but definitely the most agreeable (in her eyes, anyway).

"Happy holidays, Meredith," Alex told the portrait guarding Gryffindor tower.

The Lady brightened, recognising her. "To you as well, Alexandra dear. Password?"

"Rabbit's foot," she said, smiling and stepping in. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" sang Meredith as she closed the door behind her.

Alex surveyed the Gryffindor common room with great interest. It was so bright and warm, unlike hers, and looked every inch the home it should be. It was bereft of Harry and Ron, though, so she ascended one of the staircases, hoping it led to the boys' dorms. She shifted Spit onto her shoulder like a potato sack, and slowly opened the first door she came across.

A relieved sigh escaped her when she spotted a familiar head of red hair. Ron was still in bed, snoring away like it wasn't even Christmas. Harry stirred at her entrance, hands fumbling on his dresser for his glasses.

Alex walked towards them, placing her presents by theirs and dumping Spit onto Ron's face. She watched with no small amount of glee as both boys jolted awake – Ron, frightened from the ball of fur and claws stomping around on his bed and Harry, surprised by the sudden screams of his friend.

She smiled at them as they stared at her in stunned bemusement. "Morning."

Ron was gaping at her like a fish out of water. "You can't just come in here. This is the boys' dormitory!"

"Ronald, please," replied Alex with a roll of her eyes. She dug Spitfire out of the covers from when Ron had thrashed around and uprooted his blankets. "The only difference between your dorm and mine is the weird smell here. What is that? Milk?"

Ron shifted slightly, trying and failing to hide the bottle of milk on his stand. How long had _that_ been there?

"Well, if you two are just gonna sit here, it looks like all your presents will be mine."

The boys didn't require any more prompting. They practically jumped out of their beds, with Ron attacking the piles of presents on the floor while Harry smiled dumbly at his.

"I've got presents," he said, awed.

"What did you expect?" Ron snorted, rifling through his much larger pile. "Turnips?"

Knowing the Dursleys, Alex wouldn't be too surprised if Harry had actually received that for Christmas. They shared a significant glance, Harry amused, Alex with her eyebrows raised.

Harry tended to his own pile, with Alex in the middle of him and Ron. Her parents had received a book each from her – for her mum, a book on physical self-defence; for her dad, a cookbook from one of the most innovative chefs in the both the magical and non-magical worlds. Duncan and Grant both received some muggle candy before they left for the break, and Cedric had received books on muggle fairy tales. Alex wondered how he'd react to the two contrasting versions. The Grimm brothers were clearly on something when they had written theirs.

Alex took out the first parcel, a small one that fit in the palm of her hand and was wrapped in brown paper. It was from Hagrid. Wide-eyed, Alex carefully peeled the paper off.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"It's a dog." Alex grinned, turning the wooden carving in her hand as she inspected. It was made finely, the wood shaped into egg and carved into an image of a cartoonish dog. It was amazing!

There was a note taped to the bottom. It read in Hagrid's messy scrawl: _Merry Christmas, Alex. Thank you again for Fang's collar. The little brute won't let me take it off. Hagrid._

This was already turning out to be the best Christmas ever. She hoped Hagrid enjoyed the books on non-magical animals she got him.

"Is it from Hagrid?" Harry smiled when she nodded. "He got me this." He showed her the wooden flute he was fiddling with. After a bit of encouragement, Harry blew into it. Alex's brows rose at the owl-like hoot that emerged.

"Maybe it's an owl-caller," she suggested. "You know, like a dog whistle."

"Huh. Maybe."

"Do you have an owl? You could try it out."

Harry nodded absentmindedly as he worked on his next gift. "Yeah, Hagrid got her for me. Name's Hedwig."

"Can I meet her sometime?" Inwardly, Alex praised herself for not sounding like the overzealous creep that she was.

"Yeah, sure."

Alex grinned.

All in all, she received a pretty but practical watch from her parents and a novel about crime-fighting teenage witch from Cedric. The former was nice, and extremely useful—no more _tempus_ , thank Merlin—but the latter was the one that took her breath away. Alex brushed her fingers against the colourful cover reverently. It was perfect.

Her attention was ripped away from the novel by the gasps of Ron and Harry. They were cooing over what was undoubtedly the invisibility cloak, and Alex could freely admit it was beautiful. It shimmered and shone like woven silver.

Although Harry was amazed by the gift, he looked somewhat sombre. Before Alex could check on him, though, the door was flung open. George and Fred bounded in, screaming a jolly "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" before gushing over Harry's own Weasley-made jumper. They forced Ron to put on his, then Percy's, before marching him down to common room.

The Weasleys and Harry spent most of the afternoon engaged in a fierce snowball fight. Alex had planned to sit out for the most part, but then a wayward snowball had slammed into the side of her face, and things quickly derailed from there. The wands came out, and those who weren't first-years charmed the hell out of the snow, and all the wand-wielders silently agreed to attack the vulnerable firsties together.

Harry and Ron squealed and squawked as they furiously remade their defensive wall. Alex found herself huddled behind her own mountain with the older Weasley brothers, everyone guffawing at the ridiculous sounds the two boys were making.

Alex smiled, content, even as the second round began. Never in her life did she think this moment would actually come into fruition.

They eventually stopped for lunch. Merlin forbid anything come in between Ron Weasley and food. Alex was half-afraid that the moment the snowball mania ended was when the Weasleys came to their senses and realised they were cavorting with a slimy, sneaky Slytherin.

Her fears were unfounded. They were still beaming by the time they entered the Great Hall, even going so far as to sit with her for dinner. Alex held her breath, stunned. It must have been the Christmas spirit infecting them – that was the only possible explanation.

Well, whatever it was, she wasn't going to stop it. All but one of the tables was packed away, forcing everyone to sit together. The professors sat on one end as the students sat on the other, and Alex was the only one brave enough to close the distance between the two parties. On her left sat Professor Flitwick—with whom she had a riveting discussion about Charms—and on the other sat Harry. Any and all conversation was lost, though, when the food arrived.

It was amazing – full of roast hams and turkeys and chickens, gleaming boats of gravy and tureens of buttered peas and corn. The mash was creamy and delectable, and half her plate was filled with just that. There was a rich pumpkin soup that invigorated Alex the moment she swallowed a bite, and the desserts… Wow. If she thought Halloween had nothing on Christmas at Hogwarts.

It was almost perfect. It was a shame her parents were so busy, but she decided the alternative wasn't too bad.

"Alex, pull one with me," said Harry, waving a green and gold Christmas cracker in her face.

Smiling, Alex wiped her hands on a napkin. "Sure," she agreed.

Using both hands, she pulled it open with a _crack_! Two white mice poured out, but they weren't the vermin she was used to seeing – they were too small and too clean to be anything but magic. Alex plucked Spitfire from the ground and kept him firmly tucked in her arms. Real or not, she wasn't going to let her cat bat them around. Spitfire threw a fit, squirming violently in her grasp, but she appeased him with some poultry.

Harry forced them to pull on some more, and in the end the crackers had given him more mice, a wizard's chess set, and a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit. Alex eyed his treasures with bemusement. Who thought of these prizes? At least her one—luminous, nonexplodable balloons—were enchanting. She let Spitfire play with these, even as she tied one to his collar so she could keep an eye on him at all times. It had the added bonus of making Hagrid giggle drunkenly.

They returned to the Gryffindor common room, whereupon Ron proceeded to blow Harry out of the water in a game of wizard's chess.

Harry grimaced as he got up. "I wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy didn't try to 'help' me," he muttered to her.

Alex smirked. "Keep telling yourself that, Harry."

"You play, then. Ron's brutal."

"Yeah – no, thanks. I know when to pick my battles."

Alex grew bored after watching Ron demolish everyone, so she went around the common room. She wasn't snooping, exactly – she was just familiarising herself with her surroundings. Yeah.

Not that there was much to get to know. She watched the lion in the portrait over the fireplace a bit before taking in the rich tapestries on the walls. She could see all the Founders, as well as several unidentified witches and wizards. But what really got her attention was the bookcase tucked into the corner of the round room. Alex didn't look up until Spitfire jumped into her lap hours later.

Glancing at her new, silver watch, Alex was surprised to note it was almost time for bed. "Do you think your roomies will mind if I use one of their beds?" she asked Ron and Harry, who had moved on from chess and were playing exploding snap.

Harry massaged his singed eyebrow. "Probably."

"Why do you need their beds?" Ron asked, suspicious.

"I'm too lazy to go back to the Slytherin common room."

"Then use the girls' dorms."

Alex made a face at him. "That's weird, Ron. It'd be like trespassing."

Ron spluttered for a bit at the illogicality of her argument. He finally did the smart thing and gave up, ignoring her with a resigned sigh. "Do whatever you want."

"You know what?" she said thoughtfully. "I'll just sleep in the common room."

Ron's exasperated groan was drowned out by Harry's laughter. Alex smirked at Harry before busying herself by transfiguring the plush red couch into a comfortable bed. She was just working on the cushions when Harry suddenly burst out a, "Hey! You don't have a spare bed!"

Alex stared at Harry dumbly. "What?"

"Last year, when I stayed over during the break, you gave me your spare bed! But it wasn't a spare, you just used magic to make a new one."

Oh, that. Alex grinned. "Technically, we replicated one using magic."

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe it took me this long to work that out," he grumbled to himself. He and Ron soon shot up to their dorms, ready for bed themselves. Alex was just settling into her own makeshift bed when Harry climbed back down the stairs, a package in his hands.

"Thank you for your present, Alex," he said, coming to a stop before her.

"Oh, no worries." Alex smiled up at him. "Put that broom kit to good use, okay? The Quidditch Cup will be yours in no time."

"You're not supporting your own House?"

"You kidding me?" she scoffed. "Malfoy already gloats enough as it is. Can you imagine how insufferable he'd be if we won? He'd make it seem like he won the Cup himself."

"That sounds about right," Harry agreed, grinning slightly. His expression softened as he handed her the package in his hands. "I'm sorry for not getting you anything last year. Hopefully this will make up for it."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Like I said last year, you don't need to worry about gifts. Your presence is my present."

"You're never going to stop saying that, are you?"

Alex laughed softly as she unwrapped the purple paper. "Nope." Her face went slack with surprise as the she laid eyes on her gift. "Harry," she murmured. "What is this?"

"A wand maintenance kit," Harry said proudly. "There's even stuff for your wrist holder."

"How'd you manage to buy this?"

"My parents left me a vault at Gringotts."

"No, not that." Alex was fully aware of the trust-fund jock in front of her. "How'd you go out and buy it?"

"I didn't." Harry rocked back and forth on his heels. "I asked Hagrid about buying you something, and he showed me how to order things using catalogues. You owl them straight to Diagon Alley with some money, and they owl you the item right back."

 _Like online shopping_. "Thanks," she said warmly. "Did you get anything for the others?"

"Just some sweets," he admitted, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly.

Alex laughed softly. "Should've just gotten everyone a kit," she teased.

He smiled. "I'm not sure everyone wants one as much as you do."

"They'll regret it once their wands abandon them for me."

Harry's eyes widened. "They can do that?"

Alex patted the spot beside her. "Come sit, young flobberworm. You've much to learn."


	13. Desire

**A/N:** Happy New Year!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

 _Desire_

"Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry's head snapped upwards, his green eyes wide and bloodshot. "I'm okay, yeah. Why do you ask?" he said all in one breath.

"Well, you look like you've had one cup of coffee too many." Did Harry even drink coffee? "Not to mention you've barely touched your lunch."

"He didn't have much for breakfast either," Ron told her, his brow furrowed. "Harry, I know you're worried about the mirror, but you've got to eat."

Alex trusted his judgment, slept through breakfast herself. "What mirror?" she asked, slowly lowering her spoon.

"I went exploring with the cloak last night," Harry said, eyes lighting up like a madman. "And I found this mirror in an abandoned classroom. It showed me my family, Alex," he whispered, awed. "My real family. My parents, my aunts and uncles and grandparents."

"That's amazing," she admitted with no small amount of hesitation. "But how?"

Harry shook his head furiously. "I don't know. But I'll take you to it tonight. Both of you, after dinner."

"Okay," she said somewhat uneasily. "But only if you eat."

Harry did so reluctantly, as if he had no appetite. Alex was feeling the same, but for a different reason. She wasn't anticipating seeing the mirror; rather, she was dreading it. Because there was no doubt in her mind that the mirror Harry was obsessing over was the Mirror of Erised.

She found herself glaring at the teachers' table. What the hell was Dumbledore thinking? Why would he arm Harry with an invisibility cloak, and place one of the most dangerous objects in mankind somewhere so accessible? It was obvious what someone like Harry would see in the reflective surface. Why put him through such torture?

Alex was still conflicted by the time night fell. Harry practically inhaled his dinner, ready to get it over and done with so they could see the mirror. Alex ate at a much slower pace, hoping to put it off as much as possible. Ron was no help, as he finished his meal almost as quickly as Harry did. Soon enough, they were creeping beneath the cloak and towards the classroom.

Harry's impatience forced them to powerwalk to keep up with him as he rushed through the halls. Ron was complaining about his cold feet, and Alex shot a warming charm at him to shut him up. It was like the kid hadn't grown up in a magical environment.

Upon reaching the room, Harry practically flung himself in front of the mirror. It was huge, towering over them and framed in gold. What truly took her back was how it seemed to _ooze_ magic. "There they are," Harry said, excited. "Come see, you two."

Ron, unaware of the danger the mirror posed, happily moved in front of it. He was instantly entranced. "Look at me," he said in amazement. "I'm Head Boy! _And_ I've won both Cups. I'm quidditch captain too!"

Harry was deeply confused. "What?"

Ron managed to tear his eyes from the mirror to glance excitedly at Harry. "Do you think it shows the future?"

Alex winced. Ron really needed to use his brain sometimes.

"How can it?" Harry said a tad bitterly. "My family are all dead. Let me have another look."

But Ron wasn't going to let go that easily. "You had it to yourself all last night; give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Cup, what's interesting about that?" Harry asked nastily. "I want to see my parents."

They resorted to pushing and shoving, their friendship disappearing momentarily in favour of glimpsing their heart's desire. Before things could grow too serious, though, a sudden noise from the corridor jolted them back to their senses. Ron threw the cloak over himself and Harry, but Alex was too far. She wasn't worried, though; she was already casting the disillusionment charm on herself.

She had just tucked her wand away when Mrs Norris strolled in. A shame such a cute cat was so evil. Its red eyes scanned the room for a second before running away, most likely to tattle to its malicious owner.

"We'd better go," she heard Ron's voice whisper.

They hastily made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"You didn't get to see what was in the mirror," Harry said after they caught their breaths. He turned to her, brow furrowed. "Why not?"

Alex shrugged, her gaze never leaving the fireplace. "I wasn't interested."

"But why not?" Harry sounded so bewildered.

She was forced to look up this time. Alex met Harry's eyes steadily. "Because it made you act like an addict suffering from withdrawal, Harry. Anything that does that can't be safe."

Alex didn't sleep much that night. She laid in bed, staring at the small fire crackling in the fireplace and pretending not to notice Harry sneak past her. When he left, another pair of footsteps reached her.

"He's gone to see that mirror again, hasn't he?" she asked quietly.

Ron came closer to her. "Yeah," he said, disgruntled. "I'm worried about him."

Alex sat up to face Harry's (second) best friend. "Don't worry. Dumbledore should be there waiting for him."

"What?" cried Ron. "How do you know?"

"He was there last night too," she said, twirling a loose thread from her blanket. "I could feel it." Though it was difficult to pinpoint individual sources of magic in the castle, Dumbledore's was so strong she could have sensed it anywhere.

"You could _feel_ it?" Ron asked incredulously. He shook his head quickly. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I'm just glad Harry isn't there by himself."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Ron glanced at his slippers. "He was scaring me. I don't think he wanted me with him this time."

Alex sighed sympathetically. "Don't worry, Ron," she told him. "He'll come back to his senses soon." And if he didn't, then she was going to make it so.

* * *

Alex was sad to say goodbye to the break. Her nights of easy sleep were gone, and she was back to fitful rests in her own dorm once more. At least the Slytherin common room came with a great view of the lake. The weather had also taken a turn for the better, meaning she could see letters to her parents without worrying about the owls that delivered them.

She was glad to say that Harry had lost interest in the mirror. He returned to his usual self after her conversation with Ron by the fireplace, and her suspicions about Dumbledore being there were right. She wondered why the old headmaster was there in the first place. To spy on Harry's predictability? Or was he using the mirror to catch glimpse of something that could never be?

Alex was so caught up in her musings she almost slammed the library door open and into Malfoy's sneering face. "Oops," she said, catching the door before it could swing out too wildly, "my bad."

Malfoy drew himself up indignantly, the spell he was reciting dying on his lips. "Watch it, Fortescue. Or I might practise on you instead."

"Oh yeah?" Alex arched an eyebrow, practically daring him to do so. Her wand materialised in her hand. "You wanna try?"

Her unfailing confidence caused Malfoy to deflate a bit. "Never mind," he said harshly. "Why bother on a fellow Slytherin when I have Longbottom here to practise on?"

Alex turned her head slightly to follow Malfoy's line of sight, but she still kept one eye on the weasel, lest he try something underhanded. Neville stood a ways away from them, trembling slightly as he desperately searched for an escape route.

Cool and calm. Alex forced herself to adopt an indifferent attitude, despite the fact that she was actually very worried about Neville. Merlin knew he suffered enough shit from his own family and Housemates; he didn't need his year's biggest bully to pick on him too.

"Oh, Neville," she said, faintly surprised. "Professor Sprout was running around in search of you. She was muttering something about the greenhouses?" Alex tilted her head slightly so that her hair blocked her expression from Malfoy's view. She widened her eyes purposely, trying to communicate through her eyes alone.

"Oh! Right." Neville nodded furiously. "Yeah, I was asking about the dittany the other day. Apparently they're almost ready for collection."

"Really?" she asked, genuinely interested. "Dittany's the plant that pretty much heals flesh wounds, right?"

The talk of herbology seemed to have a magical effect on Neville. Gone was the nervous wreck, replaced by someone much more confident and collected. He straightened somewhat, smiling. "Yeah, that's the one. It even makes your wound look several days old almost immediately after application."

"Do you mind if I join you to the greenhouse? I'd like to see them." She probably didn't need to, since Malfoy had long slinked off by then, having grown bored by the topic. Still, one couldn't be too safe.

"Sure," agreed Neville. They were silent for a few moments, until they reached a fork in the road. The path to the left led to the Gryffindor common room, while the right went straight outside to the greenhouses. Neville eyed her curiously. "Professor Sprout wasn't really looking for me, was she?"

Alex shook her head. "I saw that blonde git harassing you, so I thought you might've needed a hand."

Neville sighed. "Thank you, Alexandra."

Alex smiled. "Call me Alex, Neville."

Neville looked taken aback, and rightfully so. Alex could count on one hand the amount of people who used her nickname. (She wasn't sure if her dad really counted, since he had a tendency to use dessert-related pet names.)

A loud, painful grumble from Neville's stomach jolted her out of her thoughts. "Hungry?" she asked, smirking. When Neville nodded pitifully, Alex came to a decision. "Have you been to the kitchens, Neville?"

"Uh, are we allowed to?"

"Dunno," she admitted. "But I've been going ever since last year, so…"

"Oh, okay. Then sure."

Neville was actually rather easy-going. He seemed so nervous all the time that Alex assumed he was a rule-abiding goody-goody. That was probably just Hermione, then.

As they walked, Alex was reminded of the last time the two of them wandered the corridors. This time, though, they were both much more relaxed, as they didn't have to fear whatever the castle held in the middle of the night. She also liked to think that Neville was more comfortable around her now.

They passed by several Slytherins on the way. Alex ignored most of them, except for the ones she was on decent terms with. This was limited to James Parkinson, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. She nodded at them, and they nodded back, even if they did seem a bit bemused by Neville's presence.

"How was your holiday, Neville?" she asked as they descended the stairs leading to kitchen floor.

"It was…fine."

Alex hummed noncommittally, knowing full well that Neville was lying – and not every well, either. But she knew better than to pry in the lives of others.

"Well," she couldn't help but add, "if you wanna talk about it, my ears are all yours."

"Really?"

Poor Neville sounded so touched and disbelieving that Alex couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a pleased one, though. "Of course."

* * *

Neville hopped back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind whirring furiously as he tried to recall the countercurse. He had hoped to run into a professor on his way—or even Alex—but the only people he encountered were those weren't bothered helping him and simply laughed instead.

Cheeks burning, Neville finally made it. He jumped over the ledge of the painting, and fell flat on his face as his locked legs flailed. He glanced up, but immediately regretted the action. Everyone had fallen over laughing, except for Hermione, who had sprung up and undid the Leg-Locker Curse that had been plaguing him for the better part of an hour.

He got to his feet shakily. "Thanks, Hermione."

"What happened?" she asked, worried, as she led him over to where Harry and Ron were sitting. Their amusement died as he approached. Neville was upset, yes, but it wasn't just at Malfoy, who had caught him unawares after he left the kitchen for his late lunch with Alex. He was also furious at the rest of his House, who were supposed to look after him, not make his misery even worse.

"Malfoy," was all he said.

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" urged Hermione. "Report him!"

But Neville shook his head. She didn't understand. Even if he did report him, all Malfoy would get would be a detention and a few deducted House points. It wouldn't stop him from terrorising others.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said firmly, like he really believed it. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. "I don't think Alex would be happy to hear that."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right."

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said, feeling a lot better. He wiped the melted chocolate off his fingers and onto his cloak. He could hear his gran screeching at him about hygiene from here. "D'you want the card? You collect them, don't you?" Neville handed it to him when Harry nodded, unwittingly handing him the clue he needed in figuring out the famous Nicholas Flamel.

* * *

Sighing, Alex wrapped her cloak tight around her. It was freezing out here in the stands. Whose ruddy idea was it to hold a quidditch match in the middle of January? If only Hufflepuff weren't playing. She should have been warm and comfy in bed, not out here shivering like mad.

Fortunately, the game only lasted a whopping five minutes. It was mostly due to Harry, who had caught the Snitch almost immediately after the game began, and the fact that Cedric had looked away from the game for a moment to wave cheerily at her. Embarrassed, Alex waved back slightly before pointing back to the game.

As much as she wanted to stay and chat, she knew Cedric would soon be surrounded by his fellow badgers. Alex really didn't want to head back to the common room with everyone else; the dungeons would be way too congested for her tastes.

She headed to the library instead. The upcoming exams were doing a fantastic job of keeping her busy. Alex wasn't worried about them—unlike, say, Hermione—but she at least made an effort to do well. The sheer thought of exams would have been mundane, except, well, it was a magical school. It couldn't get more exciting than that (education-wise, at least).

She glanced at her watch: it was time to visit Hagrid. After Christmas, Alex made it a point to visit him at least once a month for tea. Humming to herself, she packed her things up and set off for the grounds.

She frowned as it came into sight. A constant stream of smoke billowed from the chimney, even though it was warm enough to go without a jumper.

Puzzled, she knocked on the door. There was a great big crash, followed by some rustling, before the door cracked open a smidge. Upon realising it was her, Hagrid opened the door much more widely.

"Alex! That time already, eh? Come in, quickly now."

Alex was forced to shed her cloak the moment she stepped inside his hut. She scanned the room, ignoring the Gryffindor trio huddled around the table. Her eyes landed on the large, dark egg on the middle of the table.

"Please tell me that's one large chicken," she muttered.

"Nope," Hagrid said proudly. "It's a dragon egg."

"Oh," she said. "Okay."

"Come watch, Alex," ushered Harry. "It's about to hatch."

A fire-breathing dragon inside a wooden hut? She couldn't see a single flaw in that plan. Still, watching a dragon hatch was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Alex hastened to pull up a seat, closing the curtains of the window as she walked by it. What Hagrid was doing was highly illegal, and there were eyes everywhere.

Odd clicking noises emerged from the egg, signalling the dragon inside was close to hatching. They all leaned in, watching with bated breath.

All of a sudden there was a scraping sound, and a huge crack split the egg. The shell continued to fracture until something wet and leathery broke free. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"So cute," Alex cooed. "What're you going to name him?" _Name him Puff. Puff the magic dragon._

"He's beautiful," agreed Hagrid. "I think Norbert'll do." Oblivious to Alex's crestfallen expression, he reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing off his pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" he cried, ecstatic.

Alex smiled at Hagrid's first taste of parenthood, but the others weren't sharing her sentiment. They tried to warn Hagrid about the possible consequences of raising a _dragon_ of all things in his hut. Hagrid dismissed them easily, still high on the birth of his first child (it was pretty much the same thing in her eyes). Although the trio tried to get Alex to side with them, she wasn't one for fruitless endeavours, and spent her time soothing a neglected Fang instead.

By the time she tuned back in, she and Fang felt much better. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, though, seemed to grow more stressed. They were worried about Hagrid to the point of being obtrusive, and had an elaborate scheme to get Ron's brother Charlie to take Norbert away.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you just told Dumbledore?" she asked as they made their way back up the castle.

"That's crazy!" Ron said scornfully. "Hagrid'll get in trouble!"

"Although Professor Dumbledore _is_ fond of Hagrid," Harry mumbled thoughtfully.

"Do you honestly think Dumbledore is the type to rat out a fellow Gryffindor?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Alex is right," declared Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore will know what to do."

"Let's vote on it, then," said Alex, pausing in her steps. "All in favour of telling the headmaster?"

She and Hermione raised their hands.

"All against?"

Ron was alone in raising his. They all turned to Harry, waiting on his answer.

He gnawed on his lip as he thought. "I think… I trust Professor Dumbledore. We should tell him."

Alex smiled, feeling absurdly proud of having the majority agree with her. They ignored Ron's grumbles as they entered the castle and headed towards Dumbledore's office. Although the first-years were clueless as to where it was located, Alex had passed by it countless times when she was exploring the castle. They reached it within minutes.

They stared at the gargoyle protecting the office. It stared back.

"Hello," she said. "Do you remember me?"

The gargoyle tilted its head to the side as it thought. It nodded.

Alex sighed, relieved. She made it a habit to stop and talk to the gargoyle whenever she passed by it. Partially because she was lonely, but mostly she was damn excited and curious about an almost-sentient gargoyle.

"We need to speak with Professor Dumbledore. It's urgent. Could you tell him we're here?"

"Um, Alex?" piped up Hermione. Poor girl obviously thought she was crazy. "Can the gargoyle even talk?"

"Of course he can," she said, feeling offense for her friend. "He's spoken to me a few times." It took her several visits and a lot of one-sided conversations, but she got there in the end. The gargoyle jumped away from the entrance, punctuating her words. "See? He's letting us in. Thank you," she told the gargoyle. Man, she really needed to learn his name.

Alex led the way up the magical moving stairs, as the trio behind were much more anxious than she. (So much for Gryffindor bravery.) She could tell Dumbledore was up there waiting for them simply from the fact that the room radiated magic, more so than the others did. They gazed in awe at the round room, from the curious silver instruments whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke on his table, to the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses decorating the walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Alex could see Hermione practically drooling over the shelf of old tomes and thick books by the side. She understood the sentiment.

There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat. It recognised them, too.

"My, my," it said. "Three hatstalls altogether at once. What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello," Alex said, while Harry and Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Hm? No, of course not. Your secret is safe with me."

Alex fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Way to raise some flags.

Feeling several gazes on her, Alex turned around to the curious Gryffindors. "He means almost Sorting me into Hufflepuff," she explained.

Ron, the twit, snickered. "I can't imagine it."

"I can," confessed Hermione.

Dumbledore chose that moment to descend the spiral staircase behind his desk. She suspected it led to his quarters. He only looked mildly surprised to see them; the nosey old man was probably eavesdropping on them.

"Children," he said, sounding like the friendly grandfather image he projected, "how can I help you today?"

They all automatically looked to Harry. Slightly awkwardly, he began to explain their predicament. Again, Dumbledore didn't appear surprised. Not much got past him, it seemed. Alex made sure to look everywhere but in his direction. She may have forgotten much about this world, but the fact that the headmaster was a manipulative Legilimens didn't escape her. (Sure, it was illegal to rifle through someone's mind without their consent, but she didn't doubt Dumbledore's ability to somehow overcome that minor setback.) Instead, she exchanged some funny faces with the portrait of her grandfather on the wall beside her.

"That is rather alarming," Dumbledore concluded at the end of Harry's speech. Funnily enough, he didn't look alarmed in the least. "I thank you all for bringing this to my attention. It'll be dealt with smoothly, I assure you all."

"Hagrid won't get in trouble, will he?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Dumbledore smiled. Alex kept her focus on his beard, not allowing her eyes to stray any higher than that. "Of course not, Miss Granger. Hagrid only has the best intentions. He won't be punished for having a heart."

The Gryffindor first-years collectively relaxed. After thanking the professor, they streamed out of his office. And although Alex kept her eyes on the door, she could feel Dumbledore's gaze following after her.


	14. A Sunny Summer

Chapter Fourteen

 _A Sunny Summer_

Alex breathed a sigh of relief as she completed her most dreaded exam: Defence. It was a tad more challenging than last year's, but she had taken into account her slip-ups from the previous set of exams, so it was smooth sailing from now until O.W.L.s in fifth year.

She strolled past groups of students huddled together as they vehemently compared answers. It was amusing, hearing some of the prouder ones confidently announce their incorrect responses. The arguments that ensued were even funnier.

"Fortescue!" called a familiar voice. "Settle an argument, will you?"

Almost unwillingly, Alex paused in her steps and turned back around to where two of her roommates were idling. Agatha watched her keenly, while Katherine remained silent as ever.

"What argument?" Alex asked plainly.

"Question 5A," clarified Agatha. "True or false?"

Alex furrowed her brow. "You honestly expect me to remember what that was?"

Katherine cleared her throat with a light cough. "An acromantula's most vulnerable spot is its belly. True or false?"

 _She's a machine,_ thought Alex as she fought to keep her expression neutral. "False," she replied. "While it's true it's a soft spot, it's definitely not the most vulnerable considering how difficult it is to access a giant spider's belly. One of their many eyes would probably be easier to aim for." Especially if you were wandless.

Katherine's lips curled into a small, smug smile as she glanced at Agatha. "Told you."

Huffing, Agatha crossed her arms. "We're headed up one of the towers in preparation for tonight's Astronomy exam," she said, seemingly random. But Alex knew an invitation when she heard one.

 _Why, though?_ This was the first time Agatha had spoken more than five words to her since that day on the train over a year ago. Astronomy was their final exam of the year, so why wait until now to utilise her brain and take advantage of her excessive note-taking? It had to be a trap.

"I think I'm going to take a nap, actually," said Alex, feeling ill at lease. "Thanks."

The rejection - a blatantly obvious one, at that - must've stung just a little, because her roommates certainly appeared disgruntled. Alex tried to suppress any niggling doubts or guilt she felt when she say the faces they made, and hurried away from the scene of the crime as discretely as she could.

She sighed for the second time in ten minutes. Now she really needed a power nap.

(She woke up just in time to take her Astronomy exam.)

Naps were nice, Alex decided, but they also had the drawback of screwing up her sleep cycle. Some of her classmates, on the other hand, were thoroughly exhausted, and hastily made their way back to the common room for some much-needed rest. Astronomy was their final exam for the year, so they could finally relax.

But Alex was bored. She couldn't sleep, the library was closed, and no living being aside from the house-elves and owls—and perhaps a few professors—would be awake right now.

 _The paintings it is,_ she decided.

She couldn't stop thinking about her grandfather's portrait ever since she had first spotted it in Dumbledore's office. Her own home was devoid of portraits, since her mum was paranoid and suspected they could be used to spy on them. She was probably right. And even if she wasn't, Alex got the feeling that her dad hadn't gotten along with his own father. She wasn't completely certain, but there was definitely a story behind why Dad decided to open up an ice-cream parlour when Dexter Fortescue was headmaster of freaking _Hogwarts_.

As much as she wanted to speak with her grandfather, she had a feeling Dumbledore wouldn't appreciate her invading his office at this time.

It'd also be discomfiting to stand in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room right now just so she could talk to Meredith. It was already suspicious enough regardless of the timing of it all, but the year was coming to a close, and that meant everyone who cared enough about the House Cup were fighting tooth and nail to win enough points to land them in first place. It was likely more than one Gryffindor would accuse her of trying to break into the tower and do Merlin-knew-what.

That left Professor Galing to chat with. Sure, the other paintings tolerated her, and some probably even liked her, but only the portrait of the old History professor seemed to genuinely enjoy speaking with her. She always had the best gossip, too.

That was how Alex discovered Harry and his friends nearly died that very night.

* * *

Alex was mad. No, more than that – she was furious. Her fists clenched and unclenched in her lap as she attempted to set fire to Harry's bed through the sheer power of her glare alone. It didn't work.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, so at least her glower did something. "Um, Alex? Are you okay?"

She probably should have asked _him_ that, considering he was the one bedridden in the medical wing. But she was far too irritated to care at the moment. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked instead.

"Tell you what?"

"About the Philosopher's Stone," she snapped. "About how you were all investigating about it, how you suspected Snape, how you all planned to sneak down there and protect it. Why didn't you tell me?" It didn't matter that she knew all that and more; what mattered was the lack of inclusion on their part.

Harry couldn't meet her eyes; instead, he stared at the mountain of get-well-soon gifts on his bedside table. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I honestly thought about it, but we weren't really sure what was happening, and even then it seemed pointless to worry you about Voldemort and the Stone. By the time we figured someone was going to steal it that night, there was no way to contact you. You were in the Hall for dinner, and we didn't know where the Slytherin common rooms were or even how to reach you once we got there."

"I could have helped," she grumbled, crossing her arms. Her voice cracked, allowing some of her concern to seep through. "You shouldn't have faced him alone."

Harry fisted his hands into his sheets. Alex's grip on her fury loosened at the sight. How horrible must it have been to face one of the worst wizards in history all by themselves? At such a young age too. Sighing, she placed her hands over Harry's, loosening them for him.

"If you want to talk," she said softly, "I'm always here."

Harry remained silent, but he nodded to let her know she heard. Madam Pomfrey kicked her out soon after that, but Alex didn't mind. There was nothing left to say between them at the moment.

Alex nodded to Ron and Hermione as she left. They were almost always at Harry's side, comatose or not. They practically ran into the infirmary before the doors could even close again. Envy stabbed into her heart, but she batted it away.

The year was ending, but Alex didn't share everyone else's excitement. She made a point of eating in the Great Hall during the more eventful nights, but there was almost no point. She barely paid attention during the feast on the last day, ignoring both her House's grumbles about the Cup as well as the cheerful chatter of the Gryffindors. Alex had half-expected Dumbledore to make up some last-minute points for the lions, but they were in the lead regardless, so he hadn't bothered. It was a good thing, too, because she was sure the Slytherins by both deducting and rewarding points for the dumbest of reasons.)

Even her exam results couldn't cheer Alex up. They were the same as last year's: decent for every subject save Charms and Defence, which were both exceptionally good. Though Quirrell was a terrible teacher (the less abled the kids were when faced with the Dark Arts, the better) Alex zealously studied the textbook anyway.

"How were your exams?" Cedric asked. They were by the lake instead of the Room. It was the last day of the year, which meant everyone was too busy packing and celebrating to notice if he slipped away for an hour or two.

"They were okay," she said, showing him the slip of paper that displayed her results.

Cedric made an odd choking noise. "These are _amazing_. You should be prouder of yourself, Alex."

She hummed noncommittally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "What about you?" she asked. "How'd you go?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Decent. I'm an all-rounder. Defence was especially bad, though. Can't say I'm too surprised Professor Quirrell left."

The official story was that Quirrell had had a one fainting spell too many, and had decided to retire as a result. Only she, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the professors knew the truth.

"I wonder who we'll have next year," she said, genuinely curious. It was a man, she sure of that, but who? Would he be decent? Judging by the shiver that ran down her spine, it was probably a 'no'.

"I hope they're better than Professor Quirrell," confessed Cedric.

She glanced at him. "Even if they're not, we should practise and study together." There was no urge to do so this year, since they were more focused on catching up and chilling instead of tackling their studies. But the wheels of fate had begun to turn. Voldemort's appearance was proof of that.

"Sounds good." He smiled suddenly. "Let's get a head start. You should come over to my place in the summer."

"Really?" she asked, stunned. She smiled for the first time in days. "Thanks, Cedric."

His answering grin was brighter than the sun itself.

She was still thinking about that moment even as they were halfway to Platform 9 ¾. Harry and Ron alternated between exploding snap and chess, while Hermione looked on or read. Alex herself was petting Spitfire, who slumbered obliviously on her lap. She couldn't help but think that her situation right now was vastly different from the last time she had taken the train home.

"What's on your mind, Alex?" Hermione asked as she lowered her book.

"Hm?" She pried her gaze from Spitfire's adorable face to Hermione's curios one. "Oh, you know. The break."

"Do you have anything planned?"

"Surprising my parents by introducing them to Harry." She glanced at the boy in question. "You _are_ coming over, right?"

Smiling, Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course. I want to see what your house really looks like."

"You guys can come over, too," she added to Ron and Hermione, feeling obligated to do so. "It's in a non-magical neighbourhood, though, so you might have some trouble, Ron."

He shrugged. "That's alright. Speaking of which, you all can visit the Burrow as well. I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," Harry said brightly. "I'll need something to look forward to."

The comment meant nothing to Ron, but Alex could spot Hermione's intense gaze as her mind whirled with the unspoken information. She didn't bring it up, fortunately, and they soon arrived at their destination.

A wizened old guard stood by the barrier, separating the gaggle of students into groups of twos and threes in order to minimise the attention drawn from muggles. Ron and Harry went together, followed by herself and Hermione. A sharp squeal was the first thing that drew Alex's attention as she stepped out of the brick column. Her eyes sought out the perpetrator, which turned out to be none other than a young Ginny Weasley. She was adorable, even as she gushed and pointed at Harry with palpable excitement. Her mother scolded her before addressing Harry warmly.

"Busy year?" she asked, smiling.

"Very," agreed Harry. "Thank you for the fudge and sweater, Mrs Weasley."

Mrs Weasley's smile grew at that. "It was nothing, dear."

"Alex!"

Alex grinned. "Dad. Mum."

They hurried toward her, her dad ruffling her hair while her mum patted her face as they reached her. She leaned into their touch gratefully.

"Florean!" Mrs Weasley looked surprised as she stared at Dad. "It's good to see you. How long has it been?"

"Molly," he said, equally delighted. "It's great to see you again! Oh, it's been years, hasn't it? Are your boys as energetic as ever?"

Mrs Weasley cut a look to the twins, who were looking suspiciously cheeky. "I'm afraid so," she sighed. "This must be your wife." They shared greetings and pleasantries, while she and Ron exchanged equally bewildered looks.

"And is this Alexandra?" continued Mrs Weasley. "You've grown so much! I took care of you when you were still just a baby, you know. The twins were so adamant in feeding you some ice cream even though you didn't even have any teeth at the time."

Alex smiled politely at Mrs Weasley, waiting for her to continue her talk with her parents before she turning to the twins. She raised her eyebrows at them, and they looked equal parts stunned and embarrassed. Catching them off-guard was _very_ satisfying.

The adults wrapped up their conversations rather quickly. She assumed it was because Mrs Weasley knew better than to get distracted around the twins for too long.

Harry, meanwhile, was looking around wildly.

"What's up?" she asked.

He frowned, worried. "I can't see the Dursleys anywhere."

"Oh yeah. They're not coming. We're taking you home."

Harry brightened immediately. "Really?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I owled my parents, and they convinced your uncle not to come." Not like it took much effort to do so.

"Thanks!"

She turned to Hermione, who was also looking for her parents, albeit less worriedly. "Do you need a ride too?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, thanks. My parents should be here soon."

Alex took her word for it, but she still stuck around until they arrived. The Weasleys were long gone by then, but neither Harry nor her parents minded. Hermione was obviously relaxed once she realised they weren't going anywhere without seeing her picked up safely.

They set off once Hermione's parents arrived. Harry looked weary, but he still managed to laugh at his parents' reactions once they realised Harry the friend was Harry the Boy-Who-Lived. He stayed over for the night, reacquainting himself with what her house and family were really like. Besides, no one would be eager to return to a family like the Dursleys.

Compared to the last time Harry had visited, her parents were much more relaxed. They didn't have to worry about indirectly breaking the Statute of Secrecy by letting Harry witness something magical. Now he was free to see all their knick-knacks, starting with their collection of magical texts.

He watched, amazed, as the dishes collected and cleaned themselves. "If only I could use magic at home," he said wistfully.

Alex sighed in silent agreement.

The house saw a lot of Harry that summer, though not too much; there were many chores to complete at the Dursley household, after all. In the meanwhile, Alex was put to work at the store. She fell into the routine easily, although one thing remained on her mind the entire time. Cedric's invitation.

Her parents almost collapsed in surprise when she told them about both his and Ron's offer to visit. Her dad was ecstatic, while her mum looked relieved. Alex was mildly offended by their lack of faith in her social skills. She wasn't a _total_ hermit. On the bright side, they eagerly agreed, and Alex found herself counting down the days until it was the appointed date.

"Are you ready?" asked Mum. "Clothes good? Hair good? Gift good?"

"Check, check, and check." Alex took her mum's hand. "Let's go."

Apparating, Alex was sad to learn, was a horrid experience. She landed on her rear while her mum remained standing, looking as if she hadn't been sucked through a magical whirlpool. Gagging, Alex pulled herself up.

"You get used to it," her mum assured her. Frowning, she waved her wand over Alex. She felt rather than saw her appearance grow tidy. "Much better. The Diggorys live down the road, right? Okay, off you go. I have to get back to the office. Love you."

Alex barely finished replying before her mum disappeared. Shrugging it off, she headed down the path, her eyes scanning the grassy plains as she went. Cedric essentially lived in the middle of nowhere, as most wizards and witches tended to do. Alex quite liked it; it was quiet and peaceful, and she felt like she could lose herself in it all rather easily.

She told Cedric as much when he asked her how she felt about his home. Like her house, his was one-storey, but still spacious enough for him and his parents to feel comfortable. She was surprised at how homely it was, wrongfully having assumed it would be pristine and cool, like hers was. It was pleasantly warm.

Cedric's smile grew with each word that came out of her mouth. She smiled back.

"Are your parents home?" She had to greet them; it would be rude otherwise.

"Dad's off to the shops for something or the other. Mum should be in the living room, though." Cedric led her further into the house, and Alex couldn't help but glance at the family portraits donning the wall. A lot of them were of Cedric, from when he was a baby up until his first year at Hogwarts. Alex smiled, but it was tinged with sadness.

Observant as ever, Cedric picked up on it. He paused in his steps. "What's wrong?" he asked, sounding extremely concerned.

Alex tried not to laugh at his misplaced worry. "Nothing."

"That's not true," he protested. "You're smiling, but it's not reaching your eyes." He pursed his lips, as if weighing the pros and cons of his next statement. "You do that a lot."

Alex focused her gaze on a picture of baby Cedric. Giggling, he lifted his chubby hand to wave at her. "I'm envious," she admitted. "Your parents have taken a lot of photos of you. Mine aren't fond of pictures." Some superstition about it stealing part of your soul – which, considering the eerie way the photos moved in this world, not to mention the entire concept of magical portraits, was a rather reasonable suspicion to have.

"You don't have any of yourself when you were young?" he asked, frowning.

She shook her head. "Only a few." Apparently her soul was worth risking if it meant immortalising the images of herself as an infant.

Cedric thought for a moment before snapping his fingers in an 'a-ha!' sort of gesture. "Be right back." He ran out the hallway, leaving Alex to stand around awkwardly for a few seconds before he returned, panting lightly. "Smile," he said suddenly.

Surprised, Alex simply stared as Cedric clicked his camera. Bright spots danced in her eyes as the flash seared her corneas. "The hell?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Cedric inspected the photo, his lips twitched upwards in an amused smile. "Not exactly what I was hoping for," he laughed, showing her the picture.

Alex's eye twitched as she inspected it. Her own gaping face blinked at her from the photo. "A little warning would've been nice," she grumbled, but there was no heat in it.

Cedric grinned, and that was all the warning she was going to get. He began clicking furiously, barely giving her enough time to pose appropriately. Her gestures grew more ridiculous the more he encouraged her to act weirder and weirder. He was beside himself with laughter in the end, so she used his momentary distraction to grab the camera and snap a picture of them both. The act surprised him enough to end the chortles.

"This is my favourite," she declared. Cedric was laughing uproariously, and her own smile was carefree and happier than she had ever seen it as she glanced at the boy beside her. "Mind if I keep it?"

"We'll ask my mum to make a copy first."

"Make a copy of what?"

Flinching, Alex turned around. Mrs Diggory approached them from the end of the corridor, a pleasant smile on her lips. Her blonde hair reminded Alex of sunshine, which matched the warm aura she was emitting.

"Of this," replied Cedric, handing over the photo.

"Oh, what a lovely photo," she said appreciatively, nodding at it before tucking it into the pocket of her robes.

"You must be Alex," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Cedric's mother. Feel free to call me Mrs Diggory."

Alex shook her hand, making sure to keep her grip firm but not harsh. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs Diggory." She almost sighed in relief. Calling parents and adults by their first name was a big no-no in her culture, so she couldn't have been more grateful that Mrs Diggory chose the alternative.

"Cedric's told me so much about you," she informed her, her smile growing sly.

Cedric laughed loudly and awkwardly. "Thanks, Mum," he intervened. "Is lunch ready? I'm sure Alex is starving."

"Uh, yeah," Alex said. "Lunch would be nice." What did Cedric say about her? She worried her lip, her mind racing as she recalled all the mortifying crap Cedric had witnessed her do or say. A glance at Cedric told her she wasn't going to receive any answers soon.

"There are some sandwiches on the table," Mrs Diggory told them. "I'll be in the study. Have fun, kids."

Cedric practically ran to the kitchen, forcing Alex to hurry after him. Mrs Diggory shot her a wink before she left, though, which made her relax, strangely enough.

After lunch, they went for a walk, as per her request. Alex breathed in the warm summer air greedily, enjoying the feel of sunshine on her bare arms. It was finally t-shirt season, and she planned on capitalising on it completely. They steered clear of the woods, just in case.

"D'you have any pets?" she asked, running her hands through the wheat field they were strolling through. Maybe they would find a snake.

Cedric shook his head. "Dad's allergic. We have an owl, but all he does is deliver the mail. Won't let us touch him otherwise."

Alex perked up, interested. "Can I see him?"

Cedric laughed. He laughed more in one day than she did in a month. "Sure," he said easily. "Race you back?"

She smirked. "Okay." Without another word, she sped off, Cedric's accusatory "Cheater!" faint in her ears.

Still, her early mark didn't count for much. Cedric was, unfortunately, an athlete, and his quidditch practises could be quite physically strenuous. It was an easy win for him.

"I wasn't cheating," she said, in between pants. "I was just getting a head start. Handicap, you know?"

He shook his head, grinning. "Sneaky Slytherin."

She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

The Diggorys' owl was named Hermes, cheesily enough. He lived on the balcony, where he had his own elaborate perch and food dispenser. Alex made sure to exude a relaxed aura as she smiled and held her hand out to Hermes. He regarded her stonily, but made no move to attack or retreat. Emboldened, she grabbed a treat from the dispenser and offered it to him. He snapped it up before she could blink. After a bit more coaxing and several more treats, he allowed her to stroke him. Cedric very nearly fainted in shock.

"You're an owl-whisperer," he said, dazed.

Talk about déjà vu. Alex rolled her eyes at Cedric's dramatics, even as she quickly retreated from Hermes. He twitched warningly, letting her know that that was enough for the day. Smiling slightly, she bid the bird farewell before stepping back into the house.

"What next?" she asked, crossing her arms triumphantly.

"Next," he said gravely, "is world domination. You and your owl army will be unstoppable."

Alex faked a yawn. "Tell me something I don't know."

Snorting, Cedric headed to one of the rooms that had its door wide open. "We finish the tour with my room."

Alex had thought she already knew what Cedric's room looked like – they spent a lot of time in the Room of Requirement, after all. She was right—it was mostly the same—but his real one was more personal. A poster of the Falmouth Falcons adorned one of his walls, its occupants zooming in and out. The walls were painted a warm blue, like the sky, while the sheets of Cedric's bed were a plain white. Other than the Hufflepuff poster on the hook by his door, there wasn't a speck of yellow in his room. It was oddly cheering.

Cedric picked up the book on his dark desk. "I'm almost done," he said, flipping through the Grimm brothers' famous collection of fairy tales. "It's really good."

Alex smiled. "Glad you like it."

"Did you finish the one I gave you?" he asked, referring to _Hazel Petal and the Ruffian's Rally_. An interesting name, to say the least.

"Yeah. It was amazing. When's the next one coming out?"

Cedric smirked. "Why, next Christmas, of course."

Typical.

"Ced!" a deep voice called. "Gen! I'm back!"

"It's my dad," explained Cedric. "Let's go say hi."

"Sure."

"Dad!" called Cedric as they descended the stairs. "My friend Alex is over."

Mr Diggory glanced up, by he didn't seem as pleased as his wife had. "Ah, yes. Miss Fortescue, right?"

"Yes," she replied warily. She made no move to make any pleasantries. For some reason, she got the feeling that Mr Diggory would sooner bite her hand off than shake it. She looked to Cedric, whose face was resigned but unsurprised.

Mr Diggory bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, drawing himself up self-importantly. "Ced here tells me you were sorted into Slytherin."

Ah. There was the crux of the issue. On the inside, a very loud voice was demanding why in the hell a grown man like Mr Diggory even cared about school Houses anymore. On the outside, though, all she said was, "Yes. I'm a Slytherin." And, just to rub it in, she added, "A proud one, too."

Beside her, Cedric snorted. Mr Diggory was turning a painful red colour as he spluttered. "Alex and I are going to play exploding snap now," he told his father, turning away from the railing and back to his room.

"It was nice meeting you," she said dully, following him.

When they were back in the room, Cedric sighed and turned to her. "I'm sorry about my dad. My mum told me was bullied a lot when he was in school."

"Let me guess. It was Slytherins who bullied him."

"Yeah." Poor Cedric looked so disappointed in his father.

Alex shrugged. "Don't worry, Ced. I'm used to it."

Cedric's irritation at her blasé attitude screeched to a stop as he acknowledged the nickname. "Did… Did you just call me Ced?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Am I not allowed to?" she teased, smirking.

Cedric shook his head. "'Course you are, Alex."

"Good. Now, where are your cards? I wanna see what you're like without your eyebrows."


	15. Jailbreak

**A/N:** Thanks for all your lovely reviews!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

 _Jailbreak_

Harry was currently experiencing the worst summer of his life – and that was saying something. After he had returned from his first, wonderful, amazing year at Hogwarts, the Dursleys seemed more terrified of him than ever. They acted as if hadn't been at a magical school all year, and flinched violently every time he said anything beginning with the letter 'm'. Harry would've found it amusing, if the constant suspicion and snapping weren't so tiring. If only his schoolmates could see him now.

Speaking of which, why weren't they sending him any letters? They had promised, before break started, to owl him, but so far there was neither hide nor hair of any mail. It was crushing. Fortunately, though, there was one exception to the rule.

Alex was probably the only person capable of contacting him without the use of an owl. She had stormed up to 4 Privet Drive, her face set in a fierce scowl as she knocked firmly on the door. Aunt Petunia had answered, judging by the screeching that followed. Harry had scrambled out of his new bedroom—Dudley's spare—and down the stairs before Hedwig could blink.

"I need to see Harry," demanded Alex. "Where is he?"

"How dare you!" gasped Aunt Petunia. "Who do you think you are to barge in like this?"

"He hasn't been answering any of my letters. He always answers them."

Aunt Petunia looked about to explode, and Harry figured that was when he was meant to intervene. "Alex," he said, rushing down. "It's all right. I'm fine. I'm…just not allowed to send any mail right now."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him. "Then come to my place."

Harry chanced a look at his aunt. "Aunt Petunia?" he asked.

"Are your chores done, boy?" she snapped.

He nodded. "The gardens are weeded, hedges trimmed, dishes clean, dinner's prepared, rooms are tidied, and the windows are washed."

"Fine, then," she spat, turning away. "Good riddance. Be back in time to wash up after dinner."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he grumbled.

Alex rolled her eyes. "Lovely as always, isn't she?"

He sighed. "Tell me about it. Let me grab Hedwig and we'll be on our way."

Hedwig chirped at him inquisitively as he burst into his room. Excited, he explained to her that they were going to Alex's for the day. Although Hedwig didn't know who he was talking about, she seemed glad enough to leave the stuffy room.

"Okay," he said, shutting the door gently behind him. "Let's go."

Alex nodded, even as she stared at Hedwig. Laughing, Harry popped open the cage and coaxed his owl out.

Hedwig cooed appreciatively, nipping Harry's fingers gently, before regarding Alex with guarded curiosity. Alex must have been part-owl, though, because Hedwig accepted her easily.

"So you're saying you sent me letters?" he asked, gratefully accepting the chocolate frog Alex had dug out her pocket for him. It was a bit gooey, but Harry gobbled it up all the same.

"Yeah," she said, frowning. "You didn't get any of them?"

Harry grew sombre. "No. Not one."

"Something's up," she muttered. "Trust me, Harry, the others would have sent you heaps of letters."

"I was beginning to think the whole thing was a dream," he admitted in a small voice. It wasn't easy for him to do so, but he knew Alex well enough to know she wouldn't mock him.

He was right. Her eyes grew distant as they were wont to do. "A dream, huh?" she murmured, before shaking her head to clear whatever clouds were looming over it. "You have Hedwig here as a constant reminder, though," she said, reaching up to run her fingers over his owl's feathers.

Harry managed a laugh. "Right." To lighten the mood, he told her how managed to kill time back at the Dursleys – namely, teasing Dudley with fake magical words.

Alex grinned widely as his story continued. He even managed to coax a laugh or two out of her.

"What have you been doing this summer?" he asked as they reached her house.

"Same old. Working, reading."

"Sounds fun."

"You're a terrible liar, Harry."

He simply smiled.

* * *

The next time Alex saw Harry was at the Burrow. A tired old owl had dropped by in the middle of the day. Alex fed it some treats and water and took it where they let visiting owls stay as they recuperated. The Weasley owl, Errol, allowed her to pet it once before falling asleep. Creeping quietly, Alex returned to her room and read Ron's letter.

Scratch that, Harry's letter. Ron and the twins had rescued him from the Dursleys a few nights back. The letter in her hands almost burst into flames when she read those brutes' treatment of Harry. They had _bars_ put in on his windows. As if he didn't feel like a prisoner enough, they needed a constant, physical reminder put in place too.

Alex forced herself to calm down before her accidental burst of magic could destroy the letter for good. Incidents like those happened less and less as time passed, but it was still frequent enough to be cause for concern.

Sighing, Alex folded up the letter and placed it in a folder with the rest of them. It joined the ones sent by Cedric, Hermione, and Ron.

"Mum!" she screamed, startling Spitfire. She sent her irritated cat an apologetic look as she left her room. "Are you here?"

"What?" her mum replied, equally loud.

Oh, good. It must have been her day off. "Can you take me to Ron's house please?"

"Yeah, sure, just tell me where."

"Thanks! You're the best."

"I know," Mum said distractedly. Well, at least Alex knew where she got it from.

The area Ron lived in what very similar to Cedric's. There were no other buildings surrounding the Burrow, save for what she assumed was their shed. Instead, their house was surrounded by tall fields and trees. But if Cedric's home was finely manicured and well-kept, Ron's was a wild jungle.

Waving goodbye to her mum, Alex walked the final steps to the Burrow. She used the door knocker and waited several beats. Finally, the door opened.

"Oh, Alexandra," Mrs Weasley said, distinctly less than enthusiastically than she had last time. "Ron mentioned you might be dropping by."

"Um, yes," she said uncertainly. "I can leave if you want me to?"

"No, no. Come in. I'll fetch the boys." Mrs Weasley walked away, calling for Harry and Ron and leaving Alex to let herself in. She felt so welcome, truly.

The Burrow was ridiculously cluttered. Even though it was practically a tower in and of itself, it was packed almost to the brim. Still, Alex couldn't deny the fact that it was homelier than any house she'd ever seen.

Alex spotted several figures zooming around in the distance. One of them had messy black hair and a skin-tone darker than her own. Unless one of the Weasleys got a spray-tan over the summer, Alex was sure that that was Harry. She almost ran outside.

"Alex!" called Harry once he noticed her. He flew towards her, lightning-quick, on his Nimbus Two Thousand. Although he'd had the broom for at least half a year already, it looked good as new. "Did you just arrive?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling slightly at Harry's evident glee. It was a dramatic change from last time. "What about you?"

"Just got here two days ago. Think we're about to head to Diagon Alley soon, though. Hey, Ron!"

Ron was slowly but steadily making his way towards them on his rickety broom. "What?" he asked.

"Are we grabbing our supplies today?"

"Tomorrow. Hey," he added, nodding to her.

"Hey," she replied. "Your mum was a bit cold when she saw me just now. Care to explain?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, almost falling off his broom as he did so. "Fred and George let it slip that you're a Slytherin."

Alex closed her eyes as if to stave off a migraine. First Cedric's father, and now Ron's mother? She was sick of it. "Whatever," she grumbled. "Is anyone else here?"

"Nah," replied Ron. "Hermione's meeting us at the Alley tomorrow, though."

"We're about to play quidditch," Harry practically squealed. _Such a nerd_. "D'you want to join us, Alex?"

"Yeah, no. I'm good, thanks. I'll just hang out with your sister, Ron. Laters."

"Don't do anything weird to her!" Ron called back.

He didn't have to worry, though; she and Ginny hit it off without a hitch. At first, the youngest Weasley child was rather wary of Alex. It seemed she had heard of her House. Still, after a few ice-breakers on her part, Ginny warmed up to her. The first thing she did was ask about Harry.

"What?" Alex asked, bewildered. "Ew, no, I don't like Harry like that. He's young enough to be my son."

Ginny frowned, perplexed. "Aren't you a year older than him?"

"Exactly. Now," she said, getting down to business, "do you have any pets?"

There was Errol, but Alex was already acquainted with him. When Ginny showed him their pet rat, though, Alex almost screamed.

"It's okay," Ginny hurried to explain to her, "he's not feral, honest. Scabbers here has been in our family for years now. All he does is eat and sleep, really."

Alex forced herself to smirk. "Sounds like Ron."

Ginny's eyes sparkled as she made the connection. "Everything makes so much sense now."

Snickering, Alex reached out and gently grasped Scabbers. Well aware of how sensitive animals were—whether they were genuine or not—Alex made sure to seem calm and collected. She stroked Scabbers' coarse fur and played with him for a bit before returning him to Ginny.

It was only when they left Scabbers to his own devices did Alex lose herself in her thoughts. To be honest, she wanted to do nothing more than to grab Scabbers by the neck and throw him into an animagus-proof jar. In her fantasy world, a simple animagus-reversal spell would reveal to the world that Peter Pettigrew was indeed alive and kicking, freeing the wrongfully incriminated Sirius Black from the dreadful Azkaban prison. She would have done that, too, if she wasn't aware of how corrupt the Ministry truly was.

For all she knew, the minute it became clear that the Ministry had prosecuted the wrong man, Sirius Black would have been lost in an 'accident'. An accidental Kiss, an accidental lack of nutrients, an accidental curse – and _bam_ , Sirius's life would be snuffed out like a candle. A tragic accident, of course, but the public still regarded him as the maniacal serial killer he was painted as, so no one would really care.

So she waited until it was time. Then, when no one expected it, she would strike.

* * *

Alex eyed the Floo powder curiously. Like Harry, it was her first time travelling via this method, and she was equal parts excited and nervous. (Her mum loathed the idea that someone could just waltz into their house whenever they pleased, and Alex had to agree with her paranoia.) The twins had already left, and now it was Harry's turn. Mrs Weasley was much more anxious than Harry himself; she overloaded him with information about the Floo system while Harry grew more and more dazed.

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr Weasley, helping himself to some Floo powder.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain it to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that—"

Mrs Weasley looked exceedingly uncomfortable at Harry's cavalier attitude about his neglectful family. Alex hid her smirk behind her hand. Honestly, Harry was so clueless; it was hilarious.

"Well, all right," Mrs Weasley said hesitantly. "You go after Arthur. Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going—"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," advised Ron.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs Weasley. "The soot—"

"Don't fidget," interjected Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace—"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

"Harry," Alex said, her confident voice cutting through the babble like a knife through butter. "Take a deep breath, say 'Diagon Alley' very clearly, and throw the powder like Dudley throws tantrums. Okay?"

Harry nodded, his confused expression clearing. "Okay." He grabbed some powder from the flower pot the Weasleys stored it in. Instead of following her instructions, though, he got all mixed up and threw the powder before speaking. The force of his toss kicked up the ash in the fireplace, making Harry cough like crazy as he choked out a, "D-Diagon Alley." He was gone in a whirl of green fire.

The house was deathly silent.

Alex sighed.

"You're an idiot," she told Harry when they found him. He was covered in soot and dirt, but was otherwise all right. That must have been Hermione's doing, though. She and Hagrid were by the Boy-Who-Didn't-Listen's side when she ran into them. "Did you even hear what I said?"

"Calm down," yawned Ron. "You sound just like Snape, you know that?"

"I actually do a rather good impression of him," she admitted.

"Really?" Harry asked, excited. Before he could ask for a sample, though, Mr and Mrs Weasleys rushed in. They immediately doted over Harry.

They all got moving soon enough. Hagrid left in the midst of Mrs Weasley's enthusiastic expressions of gratitude, and they pushed through the crowd towards Gringotts. Harry revealed having spotted Malfoy and his father in one of the shady stores at Knockturn Alley, and the lot of them began to commiserate about the rotten family.

Mr Weasley's attention was soon directed towards Hermione's parents, who looked exceedingly uncomfortable as they stared at the goblins manning the desks.

"But you're muggles!" said Mr Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten pound notes in Mr Granger's hand.

"Please don't mind Mr Weasley," she told Hermione's parents. "He's lived an entirely magical life, so meeting non-magical folk is as shocking as you two meeting a witch or wizard."

"Oh," Mrs Granger said, calming slightly. "Well, that certainly explains it."

"He has the best intentions," she assured them. She lowered her voice into a stage whisper. "He reminds me of an excitable puppy."

The Grangers chuckled, no doubt sensing the likeness. Mr Weasley, oblivious to what she had said, joined in. Alex had a feeling his opinion of her sky-rocketed at that moment.

"You guys go on ahead," she said, lifting her hand in a wave. "I'm going to drop in at the shop."

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione. "What about your school supplies?"

"Already bought them when I was working. By the way, Lockhart's a fraud so save your money and pride and _don't_ buy any of the self-gratifying drivel he dares to call textbooks. Okay, see ya." Alex whirled around, leaving the rest of them blinking dazedly as she exited the building. Their reaction was only to be expected, she supposed. It was the first time she had said so much so heatedly and so quickly in her entire life, after all.

Goosebumps erupted all over her arms as Alex stepped into the cool store. The bell above chimed, drawing her dad out of the back. "Welcome-! Oh, Alex dear, what are you doing here? Here to join ol' Dad and man the counter?"

"Nice try," she said, smirking. "No, I'm just here with some friends. They're grabbing some money at Gringotts, and I felt like dropping in. How's business?"

"Brilliant!" Dad grinned. "Everyone's busy buying all their school supplies, so it's been packed all day. It's a bit quiet now, though." He nodded to the currently empty store.

"That's all right," she said. "Less people to witness you giving me free ice cream."

"Popsicle…" he said warningly. Then he brightened. "What would you like?"

Laughing, Alex closed her eyes and pointed randomly. Fortunately, her finger landed on a decent flavour. As much as she loved her dad's creations, some were a little…insane. "A scoop of that, please," she said.

"Coming right up!"

Alex had just gobbled up the last morsel of her treat when the door opened once more. Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled in, looking as delight as, well, kids in an ice cream store.

"Done with Gringotts?" she asked, wiping her fingers.

Harry nodded. "Percy wandered off, and Fred and George spotted Lee Jordan and ran off with him. Mrs Weasley went to look for some robes with Ginny while Mr Weasley insisted on having a drink with Hermione's parents."

Oh dear. She hoped Mr Weasley didn't scare them too much.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," she said, rising. "Pour your money into my allowance fund and buy some ice cream."

"Alex," Dad said, scandalised. "Don't talk to our customers that way."

"They're my friends, Dad."

"Oh. Well, that's okay then."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Looks like the apple didn't fall too far from the tree."

Alex stuck her tongue out at him.

In the end, they all bought something each. Instead of staying to finish off their snacks, the trio announced that they were going to window shop as they ate. She declined their offer to join them.

"What're you going to do?" asked Harry. "Stay in the shop?"

She shook her head. "I'm meeting up with a friend."

Harry exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione. "Who?" he asked, sounding entirely bemused. Wow.

"I _do_ have other friends, you know," she grumbled. Just one, really. Cedric was to show up any time now, having convinced his parents to allow him to shop with her.

"Yeah, but who?"

"First name None, last name Of Your Business. Now shoo. And remember what I said about Lockhart's books."

"But Alex," protested Hermione, "they're mandatory textbooks. We're setting ourselves up for failure if we don't purchase them."

"Trust me, Hermione. If I'm right about anything, it's this." She grimaced. "At least read through it a little if you don't believe me. And if you're still concerned, just buy a copy of each book and share it between each other."

"My daughter the businesswoman," Dad sighed fondly. "I couldn't be prouder."


	16. Third Year

**A/N:** I think it's absolutely hilarious/endearing the way you guys are so interested in seeing more of business witch Alex. You guys give this fic life!

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

 _Third Year_

Summer passed by much more quickly than last year. Whereas Harry visited her less often, this time it was Cedric's turn to disrupt the mundaneness of her life.

But, she thought, scowling, even if Harry was replacing her with the Weasleys, he could still have the decency to sit in the same carriage as last year.

Alex glowered at the scenery as the train steamrolled on. The Express had left the station long ago, and there was still no sign of Harry. The door opened, and Alex's head snapped towards it to quickly she was mildly surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"Alex," greeted a smiling Hermione. It faded somewhat as she noticed the otherwise empty compartment. "Harry and Ron aren't here either?"

She tensed. "You haven't seen them at all?"

Hermione shook her head, her cute rabbit teeth worrying her lower lip. "I've tried looking up and down the train. No one's seen them. I found Fred and George, and they said they were right behind them at the station."

There was a sharp _snap_ , and both girls flinched. Their eyes immediately sought out the source, which turned out to be the window. It was now sporting a wonderful crack in the corner. Feeling the familiar heat of magic around her, Alex hastily tempered down her panic.

"Was that you?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. Alex didn't know why she was making such a stunned expression – honestly, the crack wasn't even that big.

She shrugged, lips pressed tightly together. They didn't mention Harry or Ron for the rest of the trip.

* * *

The castle was all abuzz the following morning. Word had gotten 'round that Harry Potter (and Ron Weasley) had driven a flying car straight towards Hogwarts instead of taking the Express like everyone else. Alex heard this from her Housemates, although their choice of language was a tad more colourful.

A hefty sigh of relief blew past her lips at the news. Harry was safe and sound. There was no harm done. Well, sans the Howler that practically shook the castle to its core.

Third year was essentially the same as the others – except they now had two additional electives, chosen late last year. Alex had elected to study Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. The former was more challenging that she had expected, and it took rigorous reading and studying for her to achieve a good grasp on the subject. Runeology was a more critical subject than most realised. They were one of the earlier forms of magic, consisting of symbols and numbers that could do what most spells couldn't. Although the Study of Ancient Runes often left Alex confounded and frustrated, she knew her efforts would pay off in the end.

Care of Magical Creatures quickly became Alex's favourite class, even if Professor Kettleburn leaned towards theory more so than the practical. (The poor man had so few limbs left.) The amount of practical classes only decreased as time went on. Students kept irritating the creatures, they'd heard, and the Weasley twins even stole a salamander when Kettleburn wasn't looking. That was the last straw from the frazzled man, and the school was lucky to receive a practical lesson once a week after that. Alex joined her Housemates as they grumbled about those Gryffindor idiots.

If CoMC was bad, then Defence was atrocious. Alex was pretty sure she flunked all the theoretical components of the class since she didn't bother purchasing the 'textbooks'. She didn't care much, since most of the lessons were about Lockhart himself, his achievements, and random tidbits about his flamboyant personality.

Alex sighed, feeling wearier than ever. Getting up and going to class seemed like such a chore now. The only things that kept her going were the cheerful house-elves and their invigorating food, Spitfire and Fang and all the other animals she came across, and finally her weekly hang-outs with Cedric, which were more like intimate DADA lessons now.

"They say every time you sigh, a part of your happiness leaves your body with it," said an airy voice.

Startled, Alex whirled around her, her wand appearing her hand. She flicked it back into its holster when she registered the speaker, however. "That explains a lot, then," she replied, relaxing. "I'm Alex Fortescue."

"Luna Lovegood. Or is it Looney Lovegood now? I can't seem to keep up."

"I like 'Luna'," she said, her face tightening at the implications of the blonde's words. "It's a pretty name."

Luna's smile brightened, and she seemed more focused. "It is, isn't it? Have you seen a pair of shoes by any chance?"

Alex glanced down at Luna's feet, unsurprised to see her lack of footwear. "I could summon it for you?" she offered.

"Oh, that would be lovely."

"What do they look like?" she asked, bringing her wand out. She listened raptly to Luna's description, her mind painting a picture according to her words. Lifting it in the air, she drew a frown in the air, just as the textbook had instructed her to. " _Accio_ Luna Lovegood's shoes," she said in a clear, loud voice.

Nothing happened for a moment. Disappointment surged through her at the failure, but the feeling disappeared as soon as it could form. A pair of black shoes zoomed through the air and straight into Alex's face.

"Got 'em," she groaned, rubbing her sore nose.

"Thank you," Luna said brightly, putting them on. "You should rub some flobberworm mucus on your face before it bruises."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, lying through her teeth. "Do you know what could have happened to your shoes?"

"I suppose the Wrackspurts snuck off with them. They're these funny little insects that float through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. There are quite a lot in this school."

Alex snorted. "I'll say." She glanced at Luna for a moment. "I'm about to head outside by the lake," she said casually. "Would you like to join me?"

Luna looked so unbelievably happy that Alex's heart ached. They walked side-by-side towards the exit, Alex having to slow down in order to match Luna's carefree pace.

She eyed Luna's blue and silver tie with interest. "How's Ravenclaw?"

"Surprisingly boring," confessed Luna. "They don't believe in what I say at all. I thought they were meant to be the smart House."

"It's _because_ they're the academic House that they're so narrow-minded. They're almost as bad as Hufflepuff."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Luna asked, her tilted to the side curiously. "It was the Sorting Hat's second preference for me."

"Let's just say I've had bad experiences with them," she muttered.

They said no more on the topic as they reached her spot beneath the large willow tree. Spotting a familiar lump of fur, Alex scooped Spitfire into her arms before offering him to Luna. She treated him with surprising gentleness.

As Alex watched Spitfire doze off in Luna's lap, she made a promise to herself: if she saw anyone hurting Luna, she would make them regret it dearly.

Luna stuck to her almost like glue after that. Alex was neither surprised nor bothered by it. She knew how difficult it was to be alone—and, what was more, hated—in a whole new environment without anyone to rely on. She was even eating in the Great Hall more frequently, if only to keep an eye on her new friend.

On one particular day, Malfoy was being extremely insufferable. The naïve first-years ate it all up as he boasted about his new Seeker position on the Slytherin team, as well as the new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones he had purchased for his teammates. (Read: his dad purchased in order to buy his son a spot on the team.)

Fed up, Alex hopped over to the next table. Duncan and Grant jumped in surprise, and then looked around warily as hushed whispers erupted around them. Mindful of their discomfort, she simply said, "Look after Luna" before moving over to sit next to said girl.

Luna barely reacted. "Would you like a roll?" she said.

Alex smiled. "Always."

Up at the teachers' table, Snape sneezed.

* * *

It was Halloween, which meant Alex was safely tucked away from the rest of the world. Being in the dungeons on such a night was ominous at best and risky at worst, so she opted to stay in the Room of Requirement instead. It was bright and cheerful inside, contrasting sharply with the dark and dim colours of the night outside.

Cedric had stopped by, concerned as usual on this night. It took her several minutes to assure him that she would be fine, the House ghosts would keep an eye out for her safety and besides, she had Spitfire here to protect her. Not that she needed protecting. With great reluctance, he finally left.

Alex was contemplating sleeping then and there when Spitfire shot up. His hackles were raised as he glanced around the room wildly before he dashed to the door, scratching at it furiously. Terrified, Alex hurried to let him out, her wand in hand.

Spitfire ran down the corridors, Alex hot on his heels. Her cat was fast, but Alex pushed herself to her limits as she chased after him. Her pet was probably the laziest cat she had ever encountered, so for him to be this spooked spelled grave danger.

As she turned the corner and came to a sudden stop, she realised Spitfire had a right to be so frightened. Mrs Norris was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket on the wall, frozen stiff as if she had never lived in the first place. Spitfire mewed terribly at his fellow feline, but Alex was too preoccupied by the writing on the wall.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened," she murmured. "Enemies of the heir, beware." It was written in what looked suspiciously like blood; Alex gagged.

Footsteps thundered towards, and Alex instinctively raised her wand.

"Alex?!"

She bit back a scream. "Harry? Ron? Hermione? What are you…?"

"I heard something," Harry managed to choke out between gasps. Like her, they had all been running towards this very corridor. "A voice. It said- it said it was out to kill."

"Merlin," whispered Ron, horrified. His eyes were glued to the menacing message on the wall. "What is this?"

Spitfire cried out, drawing their attention to the sight of Mrs Norris' unmoving body. Ron swallowed audibly. "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help?" protested Harry.

"Trust me," said Ron, "we don't want to be found here."

Alex hugged her distressed cat to her chest, ready to leave. Before they could take a single step, however, students began to pour in from either side of the corridor. Their laughter quickly died out as they came to a stop around Alex and the trio. Almost simultaneously, their eyes darted from the message, to Mrs Norris, to them. The ensuing silence was deafening.

Malfoy broke the quiet. "Enemies of the heir, beware!" he read, delighted. "You'll be next, mudbloods!"

Alex saw red. _That_ was his first reaction – to jeer and laugh at the macabre scene and then manipulate it to his suit his prejudice? Her wand grew hot in her hand, and the only thing that stopped her from outright murdering him was Spitfire's trembling body and the multitude of witnesses surrounding them.

Naturally, the commotion drew Filch out. He shoved through the crowd, but stopped dead at the sight of his beloved familiar hung up like an ornament. For some reason, he blamed Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll —"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past them, and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Fortescue."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs. Please, feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The crowd parted as Dumbledore led the way, followed by Snape and Professor McGonagall. Gone was the jovial grandfatherly demeanour. Instead, the headmaster provided them all with a glimpse of the powerful warlock he was famed to be. Shivering, Alex hugged Spitfire close.

There was flurried movement across the walls of Lockhart's office as they entered. Several of his self-portraits ducked out of sight, donned in their nightgowns with their hair still in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Spitfire squirmed, sinking his claws into Alex's skin as she held him back.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, looking as though he was trying hard not to smile. Prick.

Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making ridiculously inaccurate suggestions. He raved on and on about how Mrs Norris was undoubtedly dead, as well as tortured, and was overall oblivious to the heart-wrenching sobs of Filch.

Finally, Dumbledore straightened up. He interrupted Lockhart's speech on his unerring bravery with a soft, "She's not dead, Argus."

Filch didn't believe him. "Not dead?" he repeated in disbelief. "But why she's all stiff and f-frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," Dumbledore said calmly, if gravely. "But how, I cannot say."

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second-year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found—! He knows I'm a Squib!"

Harry was quick to defend himself, but he was doing a very poor job of it. Out of all people present, Snape spoke up on Harry's behalf…sort of.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the Halloween feast?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. Alex made a face at the sound of all those ghosts gathered together, trying and failing to taste mouldy food as they recalled Sir Nicholas's disgusting demise.

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, and Alex felt her stomach flip anxiously. He made up some excuse about being tired and wanting to go to bed, despite the fact that he had purposely run towards the corridor, which was nowhere near the Gryffindor Tower.

Snape practically radiated self-satisfaction as he nit-picked Harry's feeble lies. He even recommended taking Harry off the Quidditch team, which was a whole different can of worms. Professor McGonagall instantly protested, and the two began to bicker until Dumbledore interrupted them. He peered into Harry's eyes, and Alex fought the urge block his view of him.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," announced Dumbledore.

Snape looked as furious as Filch.

"My cat has been Petrified!" the caretaker shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. He explained about the Mandrakes, and how they would be ready for the potion-making process once they were fully grown.

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Excuse me," Snape said icily. "But I believe I'm the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause, and Alex expected Snape to draw his wand and start jinxing away. Before she could see it happen, though, Dumbledore dismissed them.

Aware of the eyes on her, Alex edged towards Mrs Norris' prone form. She allowed Spitfire to hop on the table and inspect her. Her cat nuzzled the other, mewing sadly, before Alex carried him away. He was too despondent to protest.

They went as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces. "D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"

"What voice?" she asked, alarmed. "The one you mentioned earlier about killing?"

Harry nodded slightly. "You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"No. But Spitfire did." She stroked her distressed pet absentmindedly. "He started acting crazy and glaring at the walls."

The relieved sigh on Harry's end spoke volumes. He hadn't been imagining things after all.

"But what was with the writing on the wall?" was Hermione's logical contribution. "The Chamber of Secrets? What on earth is that?"

"Whatever it is, I bet Malfoy's involved," muttered Harry.

Malfoy? That rang a bell. Didn't Lucius Malfoy somehow have a hand in all this?

"You think Malfoy's the heir of whatever?" asked Ron.

"The heir of Slytherin," said Alex. All eyes turned to her. "What? It makes sense. Enemies of muggle-borns, right? That can only be pureblood fanatics, and almost all of them are in Slytherin. Hence, the heir of Slytherin."

"Malfoy's the heir!" concluded Harry.

"Maybe," she allowed. He certainly fit the image. "But I feel like the heir would be someone more discreet."

Hermione looked like she agreed, while Harry and Ron seemed stuck on the idea that Malfoy, as always, was the cause of their problems.

The rumour mill was on fire this year. People kept speculating on who the heir was, and what they were the heir of, as well as what Chamber of Secrets was and what it contained. Several Slytherin names were tossed around—the most popular one was Malfoy's—but the one that really got to her was Harry's. The first time Alex heard someone speculate Harry's hand in the ordeal, she almost burst into laughter then and there. As it was, the Hufflepuffs heard her snort anyway, but before they could do anything about it, she was gone.

Alex just caught the end of Ron's grumbles as she neared them.

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loon," Ron told Harry and Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming corridors. "But I never knew he started all this pureblood stuff. I wouldn't be in his House if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've gone straight back home…"

"Hey," she said, slipping into the space between Harry and Ron. "At least try to wait until you're alone before you start dissing my House, Ronald."

Ron scoffed. "You'll change your mind once you hear what we learnt in Binns' class."

Alex listened with half an ear as the trio filled her in about the Founders, Slytherin's supposed anti-muggle monster, and the Chamber hidden somewhere in the school.

She shrugged. "History is written by the victors. Who knows if that account is even reliable?"

Harry and Hermione looked speculative, but Ron was adamant in his prejudice.

"Besides," she added, adjusting the strap of her watch, "word's going around that Harry's the heir. Which is pretty hilarious, in my opinion."

"Hilarious?" Hermione repeated archly. " _How?_ "

"Look at him." The awkward preteen that he was, Harry shifted uncomfortably under their gazes. She smirked. "He's more of a bunny than a snake."

"True," admitted Ron, oblivious to Harry's indignant expression. "People will believe anything." And wasn't that the smartest thing she'd heard him say?

"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be, well, human."

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the macabre message.

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.

They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues. "Scorch marks!" he said. "Here — and here —"

"Come and look at this!" called Hermione.

They approached the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

"No," murmured Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

He looked over his shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"I don't like spiders," said Ron tensely. As he explained his traumatic experience with his teddy bear-turn-spider, Alex's mind worked furiously to recall all the information she had lost regarding spiders and snakes and the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry changed the subject. "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

There was water? Where? Alex frowned. She had been too preoccupied with the bloody warning and Petrified cat to notice any leaks.

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door." He reached for the brass doorknob, but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione, standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

Ignoring the large out of order sign, she opened the door. It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Alex had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle. How are you?"

Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin. "This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously.

"True," agreed Hermione. "I just wanted to show them how, er, nice it is in here." She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.

Alex sighed. It seemed Hermione's lying skills hadn't improved from last year.

"Would you like it cleaned?" she asked Myrtle, drawing out her wand. What was that spell again?

Myrtle's eyes narrowed beneath her glasses. "What's in it for you?" she practically spat.

"Nothing. It's just that, if I were in your situation, I'd like it if someone cleaned up for me."

With great wariness, Myrtle accepted her offer. As Alex rummaged through her bag for her notes on the spell, the Gryffindors interrogated the dead girl. Naturally, Ron's social skills managed to send Myrtle diving into her U-bend, screaming and sobbing the entire time.

She flicked him an irritated look, pausing in the cleansing of the dirty mirrors. "Good going, Ron."

Hermione shrugged wearily. "To be fair, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle. Come on, let's go."

"You guys go on ahead," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I'll finish up here."

"Why?" asked Ron. "Myrtle's not here to give us any answers."

"It's called altruism." She rolled her eyes. "I meant what I said before, you know."

He shrugged, heading out the door. "Suit yourself."

His friends followed after him. Harry offered to help, but Alex shook her head with a smile. Once they were gone, Alex peered through each stall, calling, "Myrtle? They're gone. Are you still here?"

A horrible wail erupted from the last stall. Alex tentatively opened it, her heart aching sympathetically as she glimpsed at Myrtle's sobbing form.

"Hey," she said softly. "It's okay. Ron didn't mean to upset you."

Myrtle took in a great, shuddering breath. "T-That's what they all say!"

"Well, I mean it when I say that Ron's a thoughtless idiot."

"Why do you care how I feel?" she asked, sniffling.

"Fortunately, I have a heart. My name's Alex Fortescue," she said, smiling slightly. "It's nice to meet you, Myrtle."


	17. Secrets Unveiled

Chapter Seventeen

 _Secrets Unveiled_

Myrtle was a difficult girl to befriend. All she seemed to want to do was cry and sulk, and while Alex enjoyed doing that as much as the next person, it made getting to know her a tad troublesome. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so she searched for the Baron. It took several days, but she eventually tracked him down.

"Hello," she said, trying not cringe at how bright his form was.

It was late afternoon. Classes had ended for the day, and Alex was in one of the lower levels of the castle. It was relatively abandoned, which was probably why the Baron preferred it so much. Aside from her _lumos_ and his opaque appearance, the corridor they were in was almost completely enshrouded in darkness.

"It's you," he said dully. "Have the other ghosts been bothering you again?"

She shook her head. "Not since the first time. Thank you again for that."

"I hear you've been seeking me. Why is that?"

What, and he couldn't have made her job easier by coming to her? Alex clamped down on her initial irritation. "I have a favour I'd like to ask of you," she said. "Do you know of Myrtle? She occupies the girls' lavatory on the first floor."

"I am aware."

"I'll be frank: she's miserable. I'm assuming she's stuck in the same state she was at her death, but Peeves' constant pestering isn't helping."

The Baron's eyes flashed at the mention of the poltergeist. "I assume you'd like me to deal with him."

"If it's not too much trouble," she demurred.

Although there wasn't so much as a breeze in the dim corridor, the Baron swayed as he thought. "On one condition."

"What is it?"

"Tell me about yourself," he said. Herself? What a surprisingly simple request. "Your past self, that is."

Oh. Oh no.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath. "Why?"

The Baron's gaze was heavy as he stared at her. "I wish to piece together the clues of the puzzle that is your reincarnation."

That made sense, she supposed. Still, she couldn't help but hesitate. Was it worth talking about all… _that_ in exchange for Myrtle's brief peace of mind?

Her breathing grew erratic. "I…I c—"

"Baron!" called a third voice. "You know better than to ask something so personal." The Friar, ghost of the Hufflepuffs, drifted through, looking sterner than Alex had ever seen him. His presence lit up the hallway further.

The Baron sighed, exasperated, the chains around him jingling at the movement. "Are you not curious about her?" he asked him. "She is an anomaly amongst us all."

"Regardless, she does not seem comfortable whatsoever." The Friar gazed at her in concern. "You don't have to divulge your secrets, dear."

Her mouth went dry. "But it's the only way I can help Myrtle," she protested feebly.

"It is an unequal exchange," declared the Friar. "Why, other than Sir Nicholas, no ghost would feel comfortable recalling their deaths. I really expected more of you, Baron."

Alex expected the Baron to fly into a rage and ensure their deaths once and for all. She could actually see his anger building as his body tensed and his face screwed up with intense emotion. But he simply released it all in a single sigh.

"Very well," he conceded. "I will speak to him."

Both she and the Friar brightened. "Thank you, sir," she said, smiling. After thanking the Hufflepuff ghost as well, she ran off, ready to tell Myrtle the good news.

"You _really_ got Peeves to stop?" Myrtle asked, equal parts sceptical and surprised.

She smiled. "Yeah."

Myrtle's lip quivered. "But why would you go so far for unimportant, irrelevant Moaning Myrtle?"

"Because no one deserves such unwarranted bullying."

"Hmph. If only you were here when I was in school," sniffed Myrtle. "You could have done something about Olive Hornby."

"Olive Hornby? Who's that?"

"A dreadful girl, that's who! She was a terrible bully, and she's part of the reason I _died_ ," she said, sounding oddly gleeful. "She was teasing me all day about my glasses and my acne, making me run off in tears to the bathroom. After a while, I heard a boy's voice. I opened the stall door to scream at him, but all I saw was a great, big yellow eye. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" Her voice became rather airy as she pointed to the stall on the very end. "When I looked down, I saw my body on that same toilet."

Alex grimaced. "Did you get revenge on Olive Hornby?"

"Oh, yes," replied Myrtle, grinning viciously. "She came back in hours later, saying Professor Dippet was looking for me. Oh, the look on her face. I made sure she never forgot that moment _ever_ again."

While Alex was partly gleeful that Olive Hornby got as good as she gave, she sort of felt bad for her. Hornby was a bully, yes, but she might've grown out of it in due time. She didn't know how Myrtle punished her, but it couldn't have been pleasant, especially with the trauma of indirect murder already burdening her.

But there was no use fretting about that now – not unless she could travel back so far in time. "Did you see what killed you?" she asked.

"No. I still don't know, only it was enormous."

"I see." Alex rolled her shoulders as she came to a decision. "I've died once, you know."

Myrtle, surprisingly, nodded. "I can tell." Just like the other ghosts, then.

"You weren't curious?"

She shrugged. "Why should I care?"

"A few ghosts attacked me one time, begging me for my secret. They wanted to live again. You don't?"

"No. I'm already immortal, and I can watch people without them noticing me," she said, giggling.

Alex nodded, a smile frozen on her lips. She made sure to double-check her surroundings whenever she showered from then on.

* * *

Sighing, Alex left her table to search for a book that would help her with her Potions essay. Snow had begun to fall the past few days, which meant she was forced out of her usual spot by the lake and into the library instead. It was a dreadful alternative, but the only one she could afford. The common room was... _ugh_ , and visiting the Room of Requirement so often would only draw more and more unwanted attention.

She was about to head to the appropriate section when she saw something that made her want to throw up. Several Hufflepuffs were huddled around a table, their books open and neglected. Instead of studying—as one should in a library—they seemed to be gossiping. Disgusted, Alex moved to turn back to her own desk when she picked up a familiar name.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

Was she in some sort of alternative universe? Why would Harry want to attack a Hufflep— Wait, no, she could see why.

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" a girl with pigtails asked anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth." Alex almost fell over in sheer surprise. "Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and the idiot went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first-year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Alex edged nearer so that she could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

Okay, enough was enough. It was funny at first, but now Alex was peeved.

"You know," she said loudly, approaching them, "if you really think Harry's the Heir, you probably shouldn't be smearing his name in so public a place."

Shocked by her sudden appearance, the Hufflepuffs leaned back as if she was going to lash out and attack them at any moment. The way she was gripping her wand probably didn't help matters.

Now that she was closer, she could see that they were second-years – all in Harry's age group. So, stupidity was a Hufflepuff trait, then.

"I know you," a brunette gasped suddenly. "My sister warned me about you. You tried to get close to Cedric Diggory before, didn't you?"

The Hufflepuffs began to inflate indignantly, perhaps feeling protective of their kind Housemate. Alex was tempted to grab the photo of herself and Cedric from her wallet and shove it in their faces. Instead, she said, "I have a name. It's Alexandra Fortescue. And I can't stand those that spread rumours about my friends."

"Even if they're true?" sneered Ernie.

Alex rolled her eyes. "One of Harry's best friends is a muggleborn. He thought he was non-magical himself only two years ago. And do you honestly think a baby—future Dark wizard or not—could defeat Voldemort?"

A round of gasps rang around the table. She sighed. These kids hadn't even lived through Voldemort's reign like their parents, so why were they acting so afraid of his very name?

"Stranger things have happened," protested Ernie.

"That's true," she admitted. "Such as people actually accusing him of being able to kill powerful wizards before he could eve form coherent sentences."

A few of the Hufflepuffs flushed, embarrassed. Ernie opened his mouth, about to argue back. Before he could, though, someone else cleared their throat. Harry stepped out of the shadows, and if the 'Puffs were surprised to see her, then they were petrified at the sight of Harry. Ernie was turning as white as a sheet.

"Hello," said Harry, as if he hadn't caught them all speaking about him. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Duelling Club," answered Harry.

Ernie bit his lip and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" asked Harry.

"All I saw," continued Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."

"Maybe you saw what you wanted to see," interjected Alex. She gazed at Ernie coolly. "Maybe you're so terrified about what's happening out there that you're ready to point the blame anywhere, even Harry."

Ernie stiffened. "Maybe things are different in your House, _snake_ , but being a Parselmouth is a terrible thing! If anyone's the Heir, it's Potter!"

Alex's wand-hand twitched, but Harry wasn't done yet.

"I didn't chase it at him!" he yelled, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him!"

"It was a very near miss," sniffed Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"

"Then maybe you're the Heir," Alex cut in smoothly. "So eager to use Harry as a scapegoat, yet all the while boasting about how 'pure' your blood is." She clicked her tongue softly. "If a Gryffindor could be the Heir, then why not a Hufflepuff? No one would see it coming until it was too late."

It was as if her words had a magical quality to them. Whereas Ernie's friends were leaning close to him in a protective huddle before, now they retreated, looking both alarmed and cautious. Ernie gaped at them.

"I'm not the Heir!" he protested. "She's just trying to deflect suspicion from Potter."

"Or were you trying to deflect suspicion from yourself?" she countered, lips curling into a gleeful smirk. "Come on, Harry. Let's go before Ernie decides to sic the monster on you."

They left, Ernie's fumbled reassurances to his friends ringing in Alex's ears. Her smirk grew, but Harry didn't share her enthusiasm. He was glaring at the floor as he followed her, furious at everything he had just heard. He stood, tense as a statue, as he waited for her to pack up her things.

"I can't believe them," he fumed.

Alex shrugged, closing her bag. "I've discovered that wand-wavers aren't the most intelligent of beings." That summed up the Wizarding World pretty accurately, in her opinion.

Harry a hand through his hair, a scowl still twisting his features. "Maybe I should've let the snake attack Justin after all," he muttered bitterly.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," she warned him, walking towards the exit. "Also, Ernie seems like he could use a good bite or two. What even happened?"

"You didn't hear?" he asked, his slight surprise wiping away his fury temporarily. "I thought the grapevine would've spread everywhere by now."

"Well, I'm not exactly the most social of people," she drawled, opening the door and letting Harry head out first. She followed, closing it behind her.

Harry shivered at the sudden lack of warmth in the corridors. "It happened at Duelling Club," he said, hugging his cloak tighter to himself. "Malfoy and I were duelling, and he conjured a snake. It started to edge towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, so I told it to stop. Next thing I know, everyone's looking at me like I'm Voldemort reincarnate."

It took all of Alex's will not to visibly react at Harry's choice of words. Years down the track, she would be sure to remind him of this incident. The irony would hit him like a pile of bricks.

"It's because they're stupid," she told him. "It's not like all Dark wizards could speak Parseltongue, and it's not like those who could were all evil. Idiots," she spat. "Next think you know, they'll be saying everyone with green eyes is evil too."

This brought out a smile from Harry. "Thanks, Alex."

"No prob. But if you do intend to take over the world, let me know so I can help."

"Ha. Sure."

All good humour dissolved from them as they reached a dimly-lit corridor. The torches along the wall had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. When Harry shuddered, Alex shot a warming charm at him, as well as herself, and he nodded gratefully.

They were halfway down the corridor when they saw the two figures. One belonged to a dark-haired boy from Hufflepuff. He was lying on the ground, shock frozen onto his Petrified face. Next to him was someone that made Alex's heart lurch.

It was a ghost, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floated immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

"Sir Nicholas," she gasped. "Harry, we need to get help. Harry?"

But Harry was too busy staring at the boy on the ground. "That's Justin," he whispered, horrified.

Alex's body tensed. Her voice was low and grave as she said, "Then we need to get out here. Let's go."

They had taken but a few steps when Peeves shot out of one of the nearby doors.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking—?"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Finch-Fletchley and Sir Nicholas. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before they could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. She and Harry were trapped as they were swarmed from either side. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Finch-Fletchley was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Sir Nicholas. Alex gave those special few a good, hard shove.

Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared than Ernie arrived, panting.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

Alex raised her wand, a jinx on the tip of her tongue, when Professor McGonagall snapped, "Enough. Run along, Mr Macmillan. Miss Fortescue, lower your wand or I'll lower it for you."

Grimacing, Alex forced her arm by her side. She didn't let go of her wand, though.

Peeves was still bobbing overhead, surveying the scene with a wicked grin. As the teachers examined the Petrified duo, he broke into song.

"Oh Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done? You're killing off students, you think it's good fun—"

"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, sticking his tongue out at them. She turned to them, anger still etched into her weathered face. Alex took a step back.

"Potter, with me. Fortescue, you'd best be on your way too."

As much as Alex wanted to protest, she would rather fight toe-to-toe with a Death Eater than talk back to Professor McGonagall. Nodding, she turned to leave, but not without squeezing Harry's shoulder in reassurance. The queasy face he was wearing told her it didn't work.

She needn't have worried, though. When she saw Harry the next day, he explained to her that everything was okay. Dumbledore only wanted to ask if he had anything he needed to tell him.

"D'you think he knows about the Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Alex glanced at the potion brewing by Hermione's lap. She'd known of it long ago, of course, as the trio had asked her for help regarding the hairy portion of their plan. She shot them down quickly, telling them that it would be weird if she went up and grabbed the hairs of Malfoy's cronies. Not everyone in Slytherin was exactly courteous to each other, after all. Why did they assume she could do what they couldn't?

Seeing them crestfallen wasn't a pleasant sight, so Alex promised to tell them the password and location of the common room when they needed to know it. They brightened immediately after that.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"It'll be done during the break. Speaking of which, Alex, are you staying again this year?"

"Nah. My parents are free this time. Are you all staying for the potion?"

Three heads nodded. "My parents are off visiting Bill in Egypt," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "All my siblings are staying too."

"That reminds me – how's Ginny? I haven't seen her since the summer." She was surprisingly elusive for a first-year with bright orange hair.

Ron frowned deeply. "She's been weird all year. It's probably just everything that's happening. It'd be enough to spook anyone."

Alex mirrored his frown, feeling like she was forgetting something. But what?

* * *

 **A/N:** I lowkey adore Myrtle. That exchange between the Hufflepuffs was almost verbatim, by the way; I think a few of us have forgotten that Hufflepuffs are just as capable of pettiness as the other Houses.


	18. Dear Diary

Chapter Eighteen

 _Dear Diary_

Alex discovered what had been on the edge of her memory by the time she returned from the winter break.

The trio's plan, unsurprisingly, had been a bust. What Hermione thought was Millicent's hair was actually her cat's, so for the next few months she looked like an animagus transformation gone wrong. The student body erupted into contemplation, believing that the muggleborn had been Petrified. Alex even spotted a few trying to sneak a peek when she dropped by to pay Hermione a visit.

When Alex went to see how Myrtle was doing, the first thing the ghost girl did was tell her about the dreadful attack she suffered. Alex's initial alarm simmered down when she realised the 'attack' was simply a frustrated student chucking a diary into one of the stalls that Myrtle was incidentally mulling in.

"What happened to the book?" she asked. Ghosts couldn't touch solid objects, after all.

Myrtle sniffed haughtily. "Your little friends ran off with them."

"Harry and Ron?"

"Whatever."

Alex planned to ask them about it after dinner that night. It was a pleasant affair, since Luna was in a better mood ever since the break. Duncan and Grant still thought she was an oddball, but they realised she was a harmless one who didn't deserve the bullying she was on the receiving end of. They weren't friends with her, but they weren't cruel to her either. Better yet, no one bothered Luna when Duncan and Grant were around. The other students were aware of the fact that Alex was acquainted with all three of them, and if word got out that Luna was being bothered, then they would have to face her wrath – which was greatly exaggerated thanks to Ernie and friends. Maybe being found at the scene of the crime wasn't so bad after all.

"How was your break?" asked Luna, helping herself to a mountain of peas.

Alex made a face at the mushy mess. "Same as usual. Thank you again for the bracelet." Her fingers played with the silver bangle on her right wrist, just below her watch. It was inscribed with small runes that were apparently meant to keep away nargles and other unpleasant pests.

"I still think ours are better," interjected Grant, showing off the woven friendship bracelet Luna had crafted for them.

" _Cello,_ " sassed Duncan. "Ours are clearly superior."

Alex turned to Grant for an explanation.

The tallest of their quartet rolled his eyes. "He's been dabbling in muggle fiction ever since last year. His new favourite revolves around a bunch of pre-teens who are obsessed with the orchestra and anything remotely musical."

Duncan shrugged as he reached for another helping of salad. "It, like, totally toots my horn."

"It's an American series," clarified Grant, his eyes devoid of any light. "He started off repeating these corny phrases ironically, but…"

Luna smiled distractedly. "I like the book you sent me," she told Alex. Yeah, she had a feeling the Ravenclaw first-year would enjoy _A Phantom Tollbooth_.

Alex actually gave everyone a copy of the book, save Harry, Ron and her parents. The two boys received some quidditch-related, while her parents received a variation of the same thing as last year. (Let it be noted that Alex was a terrible gift-giver.)

In return, she was given the second book of the crime-fighting witch saga Cedric gave her last year; _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ from Hermione; candy from Harry and Ron; and, from her parents, a bell for Spitfire's collar that only she could hear. She especially liked the last one, since Spitfire had a habit of disappearing randomly to stay by Mrs Norris' side lately. How those two had bonded, she would never know.

Alex was facing the right of the hall, and so immediately noticed when Harry and Ron rose from the Gryffindor table. Excusing herself, she strolled after them a beat later. Once she was out of immediate sight from the Great Hall, she quickly caught up with them.

"Oi," she called, causing them to stop as she approached. "Myrtle told me you found a mysterious diary."

Harry nodded. "It seems like an everyday diary. We can't figure out what could cause someone to chuck it away like that."

"We know it was owned by a T. M. Riddle, though," said Ron. "It's on the cover."

The world tilted on its axis. Alex swallowed heavily, and choked out, "May I see it?"

"Sure," replied Harry, uneasy. "We'll bring it to you tomorrow after class. Will you be at the library again?"

Alex nodded, and they parted ways. She didn't get much sleep that night.

* * *

The next evening couldn't have arrived any sooner. Alex barely paid attention in class – not that there was much to focus on. Lockhart, again, was re-enacting one of his finer adventures, occasionally grabbing volunteers to help him act it out. Seeing her roommates reduced to giggling fools made Alex quite ill.

Snape had them brewing a potion that would help speed up long-term healing processes. She and Katherine worked well together, one of them caring for the potion while the other kept an eye out for any wayward ingredients the Gryffindors liked to throw their way.

Alex was feeling better after lunch, and managed to catch a few z's in History of Magic, but even then her dreams were full of diaries and giant snakes and death.

Finally, class was over. Transfiguration had been challenging, as per usual, but her Ravenclaw pals helped her out. Duncan and Grant informed her of how Luna was looking much brighter, now that she wasn't constantly harassed. It happened occasionally, but Luna never named names and they couldn't figure out the perpetrators, so Alex was left with nothing but straws to grasp at.

Harry and Ron were already waiting by her table. Hermione was still in the hospital wing, recovering from the botched Polyjuice plan, but at least she was improving day-by-day. Impatient, Alex forwent any greetings by holding her hand out for the diary.

To the naked eye, it looked like nothing special. But Alex could feel the dirty touch of Dark magic, just like she could feel magic in general. Not for the first time, she wondered why she possessed this ability. Was it a consequence of her rebirth? Could others sense magic like this? While she was tempted to ask someone—her mum, or one of the more trustworthy professors—she was afraid about any unwanted attention it would attract. So she kept her lips sealed.

"Nothing odd's happened with this diary, right?" she asked.

The boys shook their heads, looking frustrated by the lack of help offered by the seemingly innocuous book.

"We were thinking about writing in it," said Harry.

Ron shot him a look. "You mean _you_ were thinking about it. I know better than to mess with mysterious books. Like I said, Harry, Dad's found a bunch of cursed books that could burn your eyes out or trap you inside. You don't know what this thing could do."

Alex scowled at Harry. "Ron told you this, and you still wanted to try writing in it? If you want to die so badly, you should have just told me. I could help you out there."

Grimacing, Harry avoided her furious gaze. "Alright," he grumbled. "I won't do it. But this diary is the key to everything that's been happening this year, I just know it."

"Then turn it in."

"I can't."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, uncertain. "I can't seem to part with it."

Well, that certainly sounded dodgy. "Dark objects are often difficult to leave behind," she said ominously.

Ron swallowed audibly. "So you really think it's no-good?"

"There's only one way to find out." Alex grabbed the booklet of spells she kept in her bag, rummaging through it until she reached the section titled _Defence_.

"There." She cast the appropriate spell, and the diary began to emit an unearthly red glow. They stared at it for a few seconds in mute silence as she killed the spell, and the diary returned to looking as plain as ever.

"Well," she said calmly, "I think it's safe to say that this thing is dangerous."

"Let's go see Dumbledore," Harry said faintly.

They hurried along throughout the castle. The cloud looming over Alex's head parted slightly as they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Hi, Michael," she said, smiling.

Ron and Harry stared at her.

"What?" she said defensively. "It's short for Michaelangelo." She and Luna had chosen the name for it from a long, long list. The gargoyle remained impassive the entire time, until they had landed on Michaelangelo. Then, and only then, did it nod in approval.

"Right," Ron said, sounding as though he was questioning her mental health.

"Lemon drop," Harry told Michael. Fortunately, it was correct. Michael sprung aside as Harry explained that that was the password McGonagall had used last time, when Sir Nicholas and Justin Finch-Fletchley had been petrified.

"You guys go up," Alex said, stepping back. "I've got something to do." That 'something' was avoiding the mental probing Dumbledore was sure to give them when they showed up with part of Voldemort's soul.

"You sure?" asked Harry.

"Definitely."

* * *

Sighing, Severus abandoned the pile of essays he was marking. He turned to his fireplace, and was greeted by Albus's green-tinted face.

"Good evening, Albus," he said, more out of courtesy than anything else. "Have you discovered something that could put a stop to this Chamber of Secrets madness?"

"Indeed." Instead of looking pleased, Albus's face was grave. "I'm afraid, Severus, that Voldemort isn't as far from us as we'd hoped."

That certainly got Severus's attention. A sickening combination of shock and fear surged through him as he fought from clutching the hideous mark seared into his forearm. "I see," he said, his voice curt as he let his frustration get the best of him. "I'll be down in a moment."

Albus nodded, and the Floo connection was gone.

Severus's mind raced as he rushed through the corridors, the end of his robe billowing behind him. While he knew better than most that the Dark Lord hadn't truly disappeared—last year's incident with Quirrell and the Stone only affirmed that—he could hardly believe how frequent of an appearance he was making.

"Lemon drop," he told the gargoyle.

Severus swept through the room, half-expecting to see Lord Voldemort's face plastered on the back of another person's head. Albus was alone, however, and nothing seemed out of place (besides his newly resurrected phoenix). There was a small book on his desk, and it looked like an ordinary muggle diary.

"Well?" he asked.

Albus peered at him over interlocked fingers. "Have you ever heard of a Horcrux, Severus?"

"Yes," he answered grudgingly. One didn't dedicate their formative years to the Dark Arts and serve Lord Voldemort without some knowledge of the cursed creations.

"You are aware, then, that one's soul must be mutilated in order to make one?"

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes at Albus's dramatics. The old headmaster simply adored exaggerating the consequences of Dark artefacts. "Murder is committed…among other felonies…and the soul is split, yes," he grumbled.

"Yes." Albus separated his fingers and drummed them on his desk, right next to the suspicious diary. "Do you know if Tom ever achieved such a thing?"

Severus inhaled sharply. "I should hope not," he said tightly. But the chances were high. His eyes flitted once more to the diary.

Albus nodded, as if reading his thoughts – which was impossible, as Severus would have felt some friction against the mental shields he was almost always instituting. "This is, I'm afraid, a part of Tom's soul."

Severus was almost afraid to touch it. Frustrated at his own cowardice, he snatched the damned thing off of Albus's desk and flicked through it. The pages were painfully blank.

"It responds to whatever is written inside it," explained Albus. "After several other experiments, I wrote a simple 'Dear Diary' and then it began to write back. I pretended to be a student under an alias asking about the Chamber of Secrets. T. M. Riddle offered to show me what happened fifty years ago, and orchestrated a vision that incriminated Hagrid."

Severus had heard the story before. It seemed like the Dark Lord had a penchant for ruining lives even before graduating.

"How did you come across this?" he asked, repulsed.

There was some fondness in Albus's voice as he said, "Harry Potter showed it to me."

This time, he didn't bother hiding his eye-roll. His lip curled. "Oh? Maybe there's some truth to the rumours of him being Slytherin's heir after all."

"Come now, Severus," admonished the only man Severus respected. "By now you must acknowledge that Harry is nothing like James was."

"Don't. We are not having this conversation again."

Albus looked tempted to argue, but he conceded with a slight nod. "He and young Mr Weasley came up my office and explained how they found this diary in the girls' bathroom on the third floor. It seemed someone had thrown it away in a fit of anger. Both boys were immeasurably curious about the whole thing, but Miss Fortescue apparently cast a spell that revealed the danger lurking beneath its harmless guise."

"Alexandra Fortescue?" One of his many charges?

"An interesting child," noted Albus. "According to my sources, she's been friends with Harry even before arriving here."

"How?"

"They attended the same muggle primary school, and live fairly close to one another."

That explained why Potter deigned to associate with a Slytherin in the first place. If he hadn't met Alexandra until after they were all sorted, Severus had no doubt in his mind that they wouldn't be as close as they were today.

"But it's not just that," continued Albus, sounding very curious indeed. "Not only is she friends with several Gryffindors, she also has a few Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff acquaintances too."

Severus nodded. Almost everyone in Hogwarts had noticed Fortescue's on-and-off penchant for eating dinner at the Ravenclaws' table. More than a few Slytherins voiced their disdain at the open show of House disloyalty, but the rest simply didn't care enough. She never bothered them, so they reciprocated the favour.

"A poster child for Inter-House unity," he said with a sneer.

"The ghosts are also rather interested in her."

Now that was surprising. Ghosts rarely intervened with mortal affairs, especially to the extent Albus was implying.

He explained that he had overheard (eavesdropped on) the House ghosts muttering about the girl, and even spotted her holding rather cordial conversations with Peeves the Poltergeist. There was also her newly-formed friendship with Moaning Myrtle of all beings, which had Severus's eyebrows gradually rising higher and higher as he heard how frequently she consorted with the dead.

"A sociable student," Severus summarised succinctly. "Head Girl in the making, it seems." He had to admit he felt a mixture of pride and glee at the thought. It had been years since the last Heads were from his House.

Albus didn't share his enthusiasm. He mentioned offhandedly, "Tom was once very social. Charming, too."

Of course. Of course Albus, the lion-loving Gryffindor, would somehow twist everything and anything a Slytherin did so that there was some ulterior motive lying beneath the surface. Had this been any other House, the old wizard would be singing praises and commendations, but a Slytherin? Never.

People often called Severus a Slytherin-biased tyrant (both to his face and behind his back) but they hardly called out Albus for doing the same, albeit towards his Gryffindors.

Severus pressed his lips firmly together before speaking. "You think she's the next Dark Lord in the making?" he asked, nothing but condescension lacing his words. "The girl who wouldn't fight back against her Hufflepuff bullies? Who convinced that damned poltergeist to spook them so that they wouldn't raise a wand against her again? The girl who assists her father in their ice cream parlour?" An _ice cream_ parlour _._ "That Alexandra Fortescue?"

Albus appeared mildly surprised by the depth of his knowledge regarding his most unique Slytherin. To be frank, he was as well. After their one-on-one conversation two years back, Severus's curiosity had been piqued. Most Slytherins would sooner die than allow themselves to be harassed by a haggle of Hufflepuffs, but Fortescue seemed content to dodge and evade than retaliate – not until he advised her to, at any rate. After some shallow investigation, he garnered enough information to identify what the girl was really like. And a future terrorist was not it.

"You're jumping to conclusions, Severus; I never said she would become the next Voldemort." They already had their hands full with just the one. "All I am saying is that she's quite influential. She's also very powerful," countered Albus. "Her magical reserves run deeper than the average student. That was all the Sorting Hat would tell me."

Severus glanced at the mangy thing, which was pretending to be asleep as if oblivious to their conversation. The Hat's reticence regarding students was nothing new; it was loyal to the Founders only, and so any attempts on Albus's part to extract information from it was largely futile. The Hat did its job, and was bound by its own ethic to keep mum.

"Also," continued Albus, "she won't look me in the eye."

"Maybe she's too nervous around Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin: First Class, Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Severus bit out. But part of him recalled his own interactions with Fortescue. She never looked him in the eye either. While Severus realised he was far from approachable, he didn't think he was so hostile towards her that she couldn't face him properly. The only logical conclusion was that she knew they were Legilimens – but how?

They were getting nowhere. Albus was still smarting from the slap in the fact that was Voldemort's existence. He would be suspicious of anyone remotely similar to Tom Riddle, and the frequent appearances of the Dark Lord weren't helping matters. Severus finally put an end to the back-and-forth by announcing they were needed in the Great Hall for dinner (the Slytherins always grew a bit rowdy when he wasn't there to supervise them). He could tell Albus was displeased by the halt in conversation, though, and Severus knew he wouldn't relinquish any and all suspicion he had of Alexandra Fortescue.

* * *

Now that the diary was in Dumbledore's hands, the attacks came to a halt. Slowly but surely, the students of Hogwarts took a much-needed breath. The worst of the storm had passed, but people were by no means satisfied. The monster was still out there, and it wasn't a matter of if it would strike, but when.

February came, and with it, Valentine's Day. Normally this day would pass with a few roses and chocolates and newly-formed-but-ultimately-temporary couples, but this year was different.

The morning of Valentine's Day was one that would burn itself into Alex's mind for the rest of her life. The walls of the Great Hall were covered in large pink flowers that smelt of nothing but perfume. Several students sneezed and coughed when they got too close to them, and at least a handful were driven out by the sheer stench of it all. Heart-shaped confetti floated down from the sky-blue ceiling, and people had to bat them away with either their wands or their bare hands to keep it from falling into their food.

Lockhart rose from his seat at the staff table. Of all the teachers, he was the only one looked remotely pleased by the horror that was the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall was shooting an especially disgusted glare at their flamboyant Defence teacher.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. His pink robes were the same searing shade as the flowers. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"

"Great," Alex said flatly, ready to spin right around and march out of there. Before she could, though, Lockhart clapped his hands and a dozen surly-looking dwarfs huddled in. Their fearsome expressions were probably due to the gaudy gold wings on their backs and the harps in their hands.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Lockhart beamed. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues are eager to participate in this wondrous occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Wait, Love Potions were actually a thing? Weren't they the magical equivalent to roofies? Feeling even sicker, Alex walked out of the hall. She needed to write to her mum.

Although Alex did her best to avoid the Great Hall all day, the Valentine's craze caught up to her. Dwarves kept bursting into classrooms, disrupting lessons and pissing off teachers as they handed out the typical paraphernalia – plus the occasional sonnet and poem here and there.

On her way to class, she saw Cedric being dogged by a particularly persistent dwarf. Alex stopped to laugh and listen to the dwarf serenade Cedric about his pretty face and unparalleled quidditch ability. Other dwarves were trying to shove cards red roses into his hands and Cedric, too polite to stop them, simply accepted it all with a resigned look on his face. Alex smirked at him as she walked by. He responded by making a face at her.

The doors to Binns's classroom flew open, scaring several students awake. A dwarf—or was it a cupid?—strutted in, shouting, "Oi! Is there an Alexandra Fortescue 'ere?"

Eye twitching, Alex raised her hand. The dwarf hurried over to her. Fortunately, there were no songs for her. He simply threw a rose at her and made his way out of the room, probably so he could put this day behind him like so many others were trying to do.

Hushed whispers and giggles erupted around her as Alex picked up the card. Someone from her House muttered a loud, "Who would send _Fortescue_ a valentine?" but this went largely ignored.

 _To Alex_ , it read. _I was tempted to write you a poem, but you'd probably hex me into next year if I did. So I settled for this. Your friend, Cedric._

Alex grinned. She tucked the card into her wallet just as Binns managed to get everyone settled again; it was small enough to fit right next to the photo she had of them both. She could only hope the rest of the year passed just as peacefully.

* * *

 **A/N:** Harry should've named his kid after Hagrid instead of Snape. Also uhhhhhhhhhhhh bit selfish that he had input on most if not all the names of his kids? Like, dude, there are two names per kid, and Ginny did almost all the work. Smh.


	19. Chambers and Celebrations

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your reviews! Special shoutout to saebest, whose reviews made me cry. :') Also, Deidaraslefthand pointed out how Spitfire's gender kept switching; as much as I'd like to say Alex's cat is genderfluid, the truth is I'm a mess lol.

Hope you enjoy this chap!

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

 _Chambers and Celebrations_

Alex glanced up as her library table was suddenly swarmed by a trio of Gryffindor second-years. "There you are," sighed Ron. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

She arched an eyebrow at them. "You could've just waited for me after dinner tonight."

"It's urgent," claimed Hermione, completely human once more. They sat on the unoccupied seats around her, leaning in closely. "We know what the monster is."

That got her attention. Alex lowered her quill and eyed them expectantly. "How?"

Hermione clambered into the seat beside her, Harry and Ron quickly following suit. "We were just on our way back to the common room when we ran into a bunch of Hufflepuffs. They were staring at Harry and whispering. They haven't given up the theory of him being the Heir, you see."

"Harry the Heir. My friend Luna said it was the alliteration," Alex told them with a serious nod.

Hermione and Harry were stumped by this non-sequitur, but Ron was already aware of what a loon Alex was. "Right," he said dismissively. "Anyway, they mentioned his Parseltongue abilities again, and then Hermione just _yelps_ in realisation."

"It's a basilisk, Alex," Hermione said, eyes glimmering. "I remember reading about them in _Magical Monsters of the Past_ , and how they have deadly yellow eyes that can kill with just one look."

"But it can also Petrify when glimpsed indirectly," continued Harry. "And everyone's who been Petrified was found near some water – Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey. Justin must've seen it through Nearly Headless Nick, so that acted a barrier from the direct shock."

"I don't understand," she confessed. "Did the creature want to eat people? Or, at the very least, kill them?"

The trio shared an uneasy look. "Maybe it thought the others died when it looked at them?" suggested Harry.

"Maybe," she allowed. Or maybe whoever Voldemort was possessing had fought back with what little power they had. She shook her head. "What are the weaknesses of basilisks?"

"The cries of roosters," said Hermione. "That's why all of Hagrid's roosters were killed. It was the Heir tying up loose ends."

"Do you know if Hagrid has any more?"

"Why?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Alex smiled. "We're going down the Chamber of Secrets, of course."

Naturally, her declaration wasn't well-received. The trio of second-years screamed, "WHAT?", drawing both the ire of Madam Pince and the irritation of nearby students. Alex winced at the volume.

Ron grew pale, largely emphasising the constellation of freckles on his face. "You did not just say that," he whimpered.

"Yeah, I did," she replied, packing up. "Let's go to Hagrid's."

They rushed to follow her. "Alex," Hermione said, alarmed, "you can't be serious. We should tell the professors about this."

"Besides," added Harry, "we don't even know where the Chamber is…do you?"

"Of course I know. It's kinda obvious."

This led to a whole other round of questions, and Alex waited for them to quiet down before explaining. "When you interrogated Malfoy, he told you that the last time the Chamber was open, a muggleborn died, right? It was Myrtle. She told me how she died, and how the monster emerged by one of the sinks in the very bathroom she died in."

"What you're saying is," Harry said slowly, "the Chamber is in the girls' lavatory?"

Alex laughed. "Pretty much. There's a tap with a snake engraved into it. I'm surprised no one found it sooner." Well, not really. Wizards and witches were rather dense and illogical, in her opinion.

"Even more reason to tell someone," insisted Hermione. "It's extremely dangerous – you could die."

Alex considered arguing, but then she realised something important. "Fine," she said, stopping dead in her tracks. The trio skidded to a halt, with Hermione almost bumping into her. Alex whirled around. "Fine. We'll tell the adults, on one condition: no one outside Hogwarts can know about this before we go down there, and a significant part of the profits should go to charity."

"Profits?" Ron repeated, bewildered. "What d'you mean?"

She folded her arms. "Basilisks are rare and in-demand creatures. I mean, when was the last time one existed? The one down in the Chamber must be at least fifty years old, which means it's humongous, which means lots of scales and skin and teeth and bits and pieces that'll be sold at high prices. I predict a little bit will get us by easily, so the rest should go to the less fortunate. Agreed?"

It took a little more convincing and explaining, but they eventually came to a consensus and arrived at Dumbledore's office. Once there, they told him about the plan, although she let the trio do most of the talking. They felt uncomfortable speaking about the financial portion, though, forcing her to speak.

"With all due respect, sir," she began, focusing on his beard, "I'd like it if as few people as possible could be aware of this. It'll be troublesome…especially when it comes to the profits – I want most of them to go charity, or the less fortunate, both magical and muggle."

"An honourable request," declared Dumbledore, a curious tone colouring his words. "Very well, Miss Fortescue. The only ones who shall know about this will be us five and Professor Snape. We shall strike tomorrow night. Please meet us in Myrtle's bathroom at eight in the evening."

Part of Alex wondered why Dumbledore was even involving them in the plan at all. In his eyes, they were just children, and had no place in a plot to take down a monster that could easily end them in several different ways. But Dumbledore was never the poster child for mental stability or unmarred morality, especially when one Harry James Potter was involved.

"With a rooster, right, sir?" piped up Hermione.

"Of course, Miss Granger."

"Sir," interjected Harry, "have you discovered who the Heir is?"

Dumbledore's voice grew a touch graver as he spoke. "Yes, I have. The diary was a big clue, thank you. But I'm afraid that isn't a conversation for now."

Sensing the dismissal, they soon left. A mixture of apprehension and excitement fell over them as they made their way to the Great Hall, but all Alex could think of was the consequences of her plan.

In the end, she didn't even step foot in the Chamber. Snape and Dumbledore figured it was much too dangerous for a bunch of children to face an enormous basilisk, so all they did was show them the entrance to the Chamber, figure out that they needed Harry's Parseltongue abilities, and wait patiently until they returned.

Harry went down with them, just in case he needed to speak to the basilisk or utter some key phrases in Parseltongue to get them through the Chamber. Hermione and Ron stood by the entrance, anxiously peering down the dark tunnel as if someone or something would come shooting out at any moment. Although she herself was worried, Alex knew there was nothing to do except wait with her wand by her side, so she whittled time away by chatting with Myrtle. If she didn't, Myrtle would probably go insane with all the excitement in her bathroom, and start raving on about how Harry could join her in her stall once he died. Alex figured no one needed to hear that at the moment.

Her watch told her half an hour had passed. They were getting restless. "Shouldn't they be back by now?" Ron asked, shifting from foot to foot.

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to give him some baseless reassurance, when a popping sound reached their ears. Suddenly, the empty space between them was filled with a rather dirty looking Harry, Dumbledore and Snape.

"You won't believe what just happened," panted Harry, sitting up from his less than elegant apparition landing.

Ron and Hermione began to attack him with a barrage of questions, but Dumbledore help up a hand and a hush fell over them. "First," he said, lowering his hand to pat the rooster in his arms, "allow Mr Potter pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey. Professor Snape and I will remain here to deal with the loose ends."

Loose ends being the basilisk corpse, of course. That was the only reason Alex decided to tell them about the Chamber in the first place. Personally, she had no clue who to contact to sell the snake bits, and she didn't know how to extract them in the first place. She figured the professors would, however, so she left it to them.

Dumbledore confessed to having no need for such funds, but Snape was all too happy to rake in his share. (Alex hoped his opinion of her/them shot up at that.) Harry's sentiments were similar to that of Dumbledore's. Alex didn't feel right about that, since they couldn't have entered the Chamber without him, so she convinced him to take some just in case. Hermione decided it would be useful if she ever chose to enter a muggle university in the future, and Ron was ecstatic at the thought of never having to use hand-me-downs ever again. He was a bit less excited when she told him most of it would go in a trust fund he could access when he was seventeen, but he would deal.

They discussed as much the previous night, and Alex trusted the professors to uphold their ends of the deal. Since Snape was doing most of the work, he would receive twenty per cent of the profits, while the rest of them (sans Dumbledore) would get ten per cent. The rest would go to a variety of charities that Alex picked out herself.

"So this is what happened," said Harry, once Pomfrey declared he was A-OK. She must have received word about what was going down, though, because she let them all loiter inside in the infirmary. "We slid down the tunnel, which was why we were all dirty—thanks for cleaning my clothes, Alex—and we ended up somewhere beneath the dungeons and beneath the lake."

"Wow," whispered Hermione. "It must be miles beneath us."

Harry nodded, accepting one of the chocolates Alex dug up from her never-ending store in her bag. "We had to walk a bit after our slide down the tunnel. There were dozens of rat skeletons littering the floor. We came across something like a snake, and Dumbledore brought out the rooster from his burlap sack just in case. It wasn't the basilisk, though – it was its skin. It was green, and was longer than the Great Hall itself."

Ron swallowed weakly.

"Snape's eyes lit up, and he looked like he wanted to stop and inspect the thing, but Dumbledore urged us to move along. We walked some more and ran into a wall carved with two giant snakes with emeralds as their eyes. Like with the tap, I told it to open, and we were greeted by an enormous green-tinted room with lots of pillars carved into snakes, and a giant statue of Salazar Slytherin himself."

Harry paused for some much-needed air before continuing. "There was no sign of the basilisk. After Dumbledore and Snape inspected the place, they decided there had to be some sort of key word. We huddled by the entrance and I said some corny stuff like, 'Come out, basilisk, the Heir of Slytherin commands you'—Snape looked really amused at that—and then Slytherin's mouth began to open, and the basilisk slithered out." He took a deep breath. "We were watching it through the giant puddle Dumbledore had conjured up on the floor. I froze up, but before it could come close, Dumbledore prodded the rooster and it crowed. The whole Chamber shook as the basilisk fell, dead. I thought the walls were going to collapse right on top of us.

"And that's it," he said with an inappropriately blasé shrug.

Overwhelmed, Alex leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. It was only when Dumbledore walked in that she finally sat up. Someone was trailing behind him, a mask of cold fury on his face, and Alex almost fell out of her chair when she identified him as Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater extraordinaire. Dobby the house-elf hobbled after him, looking as terrified as she felt.

She tried to make herself as small and invisible as possible as they engaged in verbal warfare. It turned out that Ginny had confessed that she was the one who was leaving the creepy messages on the wall and killing the roosters. Maybe she was feeling insanely guilty, or maybe she couldn't hold it in anymore and blabbed, Alex didn't know. But as Harry listened to Dumbledore and watched Dobby's crazy gestures, he realised that Malfoy Sr. was the one to slip Ginny the diary, months ago in Flourish and Blotts.

Ron recovered from his shock at discovering the diary contained Voldemort's memory. He looked ready to break Lucius Malfoy's neck then and there, but Hermione kept a firm grip on his wrist. Naturally, Malfoy deflected their accusations, as they could never prove it was him, but Dumbledore warned him to never go around spreading Riddle's school things again, lest Mr Weasley trace it back to him and ruin his reputation forever.

With an indignant huff, Malfoy turned and strutted off. Before he was out of sight, Harry called out to him and threw his sock, of all things, at the man's face. While Alex would have paid good money to see the smelly, slimy item hit Malfoy's face—she realised, with no small amount of glee, that she could totally do that now—he caught it at the last moment. Disgusted, he tossed it aside, where Dobby practically flew to catch it.

Dobby the elf was freed, Lucius Malfoy was (literally) blown away by the house-elf's magical prowess, the basilisk was dead, and the school was safe.

Dumbledore summed up their good mood with one sentence: "Well, I think this is cause for a feast, wouldn't you say?"

The celebrations lasted all night and well into the morning. Despite the fact that dinner had ended but an hour ago, people still found rooms in their stomachs to stuff a few treats down. There was even butterbeer going around. Alex sipped at hers tentatively.

Before the feast had officially begun, Dumbledore had announced that the case was closed. The Chamber was found, the monster had been identified and killed, and the criminal caught. She was surprised to hear him actually tell the truth—that it was the memory of Voldemort within a diary that would possess any who wrote in it—but what stunned her was whom he congratulated for solving the case.

The trio, naturally, received two hundred points each. The thunderous applause and cheer from the Gryffindor table had no time to begin before Dumbledore continued his speech. "Also," he said, smiling in her direction, "because of her admirable detective skills, Alexandra Fortescue has managed to discover what so many wizards and witches before her couldn't. Two hundred points to Slytherin."

Stunted applause echoed through the hall, and Alex wanted to do nothing more than curl into a ball and cry. Her Housemates nodded at her in approval, which made her feel slightly better about it all. Still, when the time came, she knew no one would even consider her an ally in the war between the Dark and the Light.

"Hey, Cedric, I was wo—"

Cedric stopped dead in the hallway, a look of shock on his face. "What's this?" he gasped. "Is Alexandra Fortescue, hero of Hogwarts, actually acknowledging me?"

Alex's confusion melted into resigned amusement as she rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha, very funny. Be serious."

Cedric dropped the gushing fanboy act with a smile. "I was only half-joking. The general opinion of you has practically undergone a one-eighty overnight."

"I don't care," she said frankly. At least the Hufflepuffs were less likely to give her shit for hanging with Cedric now. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over in the summer?"

"I'd love to," he said, grinning. He accepted the slip of paper with her address written on it. "Do you have the Floo system connected to your house?"

"Nah. Mum's a bit paranoid, being an auror and all."

He nodded in understanding and tucked the note into the pockets of his pants. "Where are you off to now?"

"Technically, I have Defense right now, but we learn more about Lockhart's ego than anything else."

"You sly snake," said Cedric, a smirk on his face as he caught the implication of her words. "You're playing hooky, aren't you?"

Alex mirrored his expression. "It's not really hooky if you're sneaking off to study, is it?"

"I should report you," Cedric said with a dramatic sniff. "Unless… you go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me."

"Tough choice," she said with a heavy sigh. "But I'm starting to like my goody two shoes reputation, so I'll have to go with the latter."

The monthly Hogsmeade weekends weren't too exciting for Alex. She had practically grown up in Diagon Alley, so the appeal of candy and butterbeer was lost on her. The first time and last time she had gone, she had been alone, and had spent most of the time watching the Shrieking Shack and debating exploring it.

But now that the school held her in good opinion, she could safely go with Cedric without fear of being burned at the stake. Smiling, she bid Cedric farewell as he hurried off to his class. Alex herself was off to the lake, where she could enjoy the spring sunshine undisturbed.

Hermione was horrified when she found out, of course. To her, Lockhart was still a star. Truancy was bad enough, but truanting _Lockhart's_ class? Preposterous!

She was less indignant, though, at the End-of-Term feast when Dumbledore announced Lockhart wouldn't be returning next year. Over the dismayed cries of his fans, he explained that several aurors and civilians had worked together to unveil the trail of frauds Lockhart had committed over the years. He had been arrested and discredited. From her seat at the Slytherin table, Alex could see Harry and Ron shooting smug looks at an embarrassed Hermione. Though no one would ever know, the anonymous tip that had been delivered to Mum and her work-friends was all Alex's doing.

Her self-satisfied smile lasted the whole train ride home. Spitfire was asleep in Hermione's nap, leaving Alex free to play with Scabbers. "It's a good thing you kept an eye on Scabbers this year, Ron," she said, tickling the chittering rat's chin. "Otherwise the basilisk would have gobbled this cutie up." It was amazing how she managed to say that without gagging.

Ron shrugged, his eyes never leaving the game of Exploding Snap the twins and Harry were playing. "I don't even know if the lousy thing realised what was happening all year."

"Rats are actually intelligent creatures," she told him, running her fingers over Scabbers' fur. It leaned into her touch, and a smirk flitted over her face at the open display of trust. _Phase one: complete_.

The group parted ways at the station, the twins making a huge deal over the heroes of Hogwarts like Cedric did. Unlike Cedric, they kept it up even when they were asked to stop. Her parents, curious, asked what it was all about during the car ride home. She and Harry exchanged a look before silently agreeing to smile obliviously and shrug their shoulders. Although nonplussed, they dropped the subject once she asked how the past few months had treated them.

"Oh, by the way," she said, letting Spitfire scramble out of his cage and around the house, "my Cedric is coming over this summer. Is that okay?"

For some reason, this elicited a smirk from Mum and a glower from Dad. "Did you just say 'my Cedric'?" asked Mum.

Alex's face heated up as the words sunk in. "I meant my friend Cedric! I swear! Stop laughing, Harry!"

Her mum shrugged and said, "Sure" while her dad dramatically bemoaned the fact that his darling little girl was bringing _another_ boy home. Harry looked bemused by this as he stepped inside, but Alex just sent her dad a look. "I'm thirteen, Dad," she reminded him, though she wasn't sure if this helped her argument or not. "Besides, Cedric and I really are just good mates."

Harry smirked from the stairs. "A good mate who gave you a valentine."

Dad paused in making tea while Mum arched her brows. _Damn you, Harry Potter_ , she thought viciously, suddenly finding herself fighting off her parents' inquisitiveness.

"I'm not getting you anything for your birthday now," she grumbled moments later.

Harry didn't look up from his cloud-watching. "We both know that's not true."

The topic of birthdays had come up on the train, and Alex had discovered Harry's was on July 31st.

"Is there anything you want?" she asked, watching Spitfire sniff around the backyard.

"Not really." Books it was, then. "What about you?"

"I would like world domination."

"Uh, something a bit more accessible, maybe?"

"Lame," she muttered. "I'll be happy with a homemade card."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I don't need anything." Nothing Harry could get her, anyway.

She didn't even celebrate her birthdays, not really. Her parents both took a day off and they went out to dinner and had a specially-made Fortescue ice cream cake, but that was pretty much it. Alex enjoyed it as it was, and while her parents felt like they should take her out somewhere, there was nowhere she wanted to go that was accessible enough. She wanted to travel the world, to her parents' homelands, to Australia and America and all the rest, but long-distance side-long apparition was tricky, especially with someone so inexperienced. There were things she had to do here, anyway.

* * *

Alex strolled through her neighbourhood, a half-eaten sandwich in her hands. It was part of the lunch her parents had made for her before leaving for work that morning, but she had gorged herself on some of the chips from on the nearby shops, hence the walk. She was making her way up into jogging by increasing her pace and distance each day. Soon, she would be able to run through the streets without breaking a sweat (probably). As it was, she managed a fast-paced powerwalk.

The way she ate at Hogwarts was fine; she expended so much magic that she needed to consume enough food to compensate for it. With the trace still on her, though, the most she did was accidentally unleash bouts of uncontrollable magic, so she needed to either cut down on eating or start exercising. Obviously, she opted for the latter.

Wincing, she adjusted her bra. Puberty was definitely more painful the second time around. At least being magical meant being able to resize bras appropriately as they grew in. Her parents had to fix it a minimum of once a year since they began to grown a few years back. It was annoying, and sometimes Alex wished she had been reborn into a male body instead.

That was when she noticed it. In her dull muggle neighbourhood, the only notable spots of brightness were her house and, several streets over, Harry's. And now there was a new contestant. It was faint and muffled, and would've been invisible if they weren't in an otherwise magic-less province.

She followed the source, the rest of the world growing dimmer as she focused solely on the spot of magic. Although it was practically useless now that she wasn't at school, she held her wand out by her side. Her hand tightened over it as a low whine reached her ears. She followed the whimpers to a clump of bushes, which was hiding a large black dog. It looked like it hadn't seen a decent meal in weeks.

Her heart went out to it. Disregarding the fact that it might be dangerous, Alex kneeled down and placed the sandwich by its snout. The dog barely looked at her before devouring the entire sandwich in one gulp.

"I have more at my house," she told it, as if it could understand her. Judging by the way it was looking at her, it probably could. Magical creatures were a smidge brighter than their mundane relatives, after all. "Also, my parents aren't home right now. They won't kick you out, and even if they do, it'll at least be on a full stomach."

Rising, she dusted herself off and slowly walked back. She peered over her shoulder, and smiled when she saw the dog slowly but steadily following her.

The fifteen-minute walk seemed to tire the dog immensely. He was panting vigorously, so the first thing Alex did was fill a shallow bowl with water. He lapped it up eagerly as she grabbed all the meat she could find in the house and piled it on a plate. She placed it outside on the porch, so that the dog could dig in without fear of messing up the place.

Spitfire, who had been dozing in the sun, glanced up at the appearance of the dog. He approached carefully, stopping to sniff the dog before deeming it acceptable. If Spitfire could deal with Fang, then he could deal with this new, less excitable dog. Satisfied, her cat returned to its nap. _Lazy ass_.

"Well," Alex said, watching the dog lick the plate clean, "Spitfire approves of you. That's good enough for me. What should we call you?" Humming thoughtfully, she reached out a hand to the dog. It made no move to stop her, so she patted his head softly. "I'll call you Lucky."

The dog huffed, as though unappreciative of the name. Smiling, Alex continued to stroke its fur. "How about a bath, huh?"

Unlike most dogs, Lucky didn't run off at the sound of running water. That, added to its peculiar timing and air of magic around it, Alex was quite sure that the creature she was bathing was recent escapee Sirius Black.

She grinned. Phase two was off to a great start.


	20. The Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter Twenty

 _The Prisoner of Azkaban_

Alex's parents just about fainted at the sight of the hulking black dog snoozing by feet. After a hasty explanation filled with sympathy pleas, they reluctantly allowed her to keep it – until she returned to school, at least. Delighted, Lucky wagged his tail enthusiastically.

As much as Alex wanted to let Sirius return to his human form, she knew telling him she was aware of his true identity would raise about a million red flags. He'd probably suspect her, and would sooner run away than stay with the oddly knowledgeable daughter of an auror.

Besides, he was having enough fun pretending to be a dog. Her dad warmed up to him quickly, feeding him treats almost every hour. Alex had to shut herself and Lucky in her room before Dad began to lose it and start giving him ice cream. She saw the way he was glancing at the freezer.

"I've always wanted a dog," she confided in him. Using Spitfire's brush, she combed through his matted fur. When the clumps got too difficult, she snipped it off. "Spit's always sleeping or running off somewhere, and though Harry and Cedric visit from time to time, it can get a little lonely. My parents are almost always working, you see. Dad owns a pretty popular ice cream store, and Mum's an auror."

If Sirius was trying to act as a common dog, he was doing a terrible job at it. He stiffened noticeably beneath her fingers at the sound of her mum's occupation, and even more so as she continued to talk about Harry.

"It's Harry's birthday tomorrow," she continued, feigning obliviousness. "He's supposed to come over so we can celebrate, but he called me earlier and said he might not make it. I have his present here waiting for him in case he does, though. I can't wait for you to meet him. Harry seems like a dog-lover, to be honest."

There. Now Sirius had to stay.

Smirking, she washed her hands and went downstairs for dinner. Spitfire was content with cat food, but Alex didn't feel right feeding Sirius something like that. After a pause, she dumped most of her meat onto a separate plate, and gave it to Lucky. Mum tried to reprimand her, but then Dad hand-fed the dog himself, so she simply sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

"You found Lucky while walking around this afternoon, right? Well, I want you to put a stop to that for now. A particularly vile convict has recently escaped from Azkaban."

Alex hummed lightly. "What did he do?"

"He caused a street to explode, killing a wizard and a dozen muggles."

"But why?"

Mum shrugged. "We don't know. He just started laughing like a maniac, so everyone figured he went mad."

Dad frowned. "I knew Sirius when he was a lad," he said quietly. "Came from a bad family, but he himself was a good kid."

"Then it doesn't make sense," Alex decided, tossing some more food into Lucky's direction. He snapped it up quickly. "Did he even get a proper trial? A chance to defend himself?"

"He was too unstable," said Mum, but she frowned as if confused.

"They should have sent him to Mungo's before Azkaban, then. That's what the non-magical justice system would have done." She scoffed. "The Ministry's so messed up. Something's fishy about the whole thing."

Her mum was unimpressed. "And how would you know, dear daughter?"

"Mum," she said, "they hired Lucius Malfoy as a school governor. _Lucius Malfoy_."

Dad chuckled. "She's got you there, Jules."

"Florean," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're just upset he called your shop commonplace and unsuitable for his son."

Dad pretended to lose his hearing, as he did whenever Mum was right.

Alex laughed into her hand before glancing at Lucky. He was gazing up at her intently. She snuck him another piece of roast pork down the side.

* * *

Alex was wrong. Harry didn't show up on his birthday, but he _did_ appear in the shop the day after.

She was just about to go on her lunch break when the door was opened and Harry himself walked in. He started to smile when he saw her, but then he noticed the furious expression she was wearing.

"You!" she hissed, throwing her apron off and stalking close. "Where have you been? You didn't call or owl me, and now you just stroll in as if nothing's happened?"

Harry backed up against the door. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to," he said, panicked. "My horrid aunt came to visit on my birthday, and I had to stay and let her trash talk to me. But then she started on my parents, so, uh, I kind of blew-her-up."

Alex froze. "You what?"

"I accidentally used magic, and she began to inflate like a balloon. Last time I saw her she was screaming and flying away," he added with a cringe.

"Oh." She relaxed. "Did she die?"

"No, the Ministry got to her."

Of course they did. "Damn."

Harry remained apprehensive. "Are you still mad?"

"No," she sighed. "As long as you promise you planned on telling me you were safe."

He nodded vigorously, but Alex remained skeptical. "I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron, have been since yesterday. The Minister's paying for it."

She frowned, returning to the counter to scoop up a snack for her friend. "Why? Shouldn't your wand be snapped or whatever for using magic on a muggle?"

Harry's hand drifted to his pants pocket, where his wand was probably stored. "That's what I said. He started looking shifty and saying that he was just glad I was safe, what with Sirius Black running around. You've heard of him, right?"

Heard of him? She had given him a _haircut_ the other day. "Yeah," she said, compiling a sundae of Harry's favourite flavours. "His is a weird case. They never gave him a proper trial, so who knows what really happened that day?"

His head tilted to the side - a quirk of his whenever he encountered something curious. That was what happened when your familiar was an owl. Briefly, Alex wondered if she had inherited any odd habits from Spitfire.

"Really?" said Harry. "That's not normal in the wizarding world, is it?"

"Nope. That's why I think something's afoot. So if I were you, Harry, I would take nothing at face-value. Now," she added, "do you want cherries or chocolate sprinkles?"

Once her shift was over, she checked out Harry's suite at the Leaky Cauldron. It was very plain, but probably an improvement over his room at Privet Drive. Harry didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, the sudden freedom allowed him to relax quite a bit. Alex played with Hedwig for a good while before she noticed the angry book tied with a belt on his desk.

"Oh, you got your new Care of Magical Creatures book already?"

"That's what it is?" Harry asked, bewildered. "Hagrid gave it to me for my birthday. Wasn't sure what it was."

"Speaking of your birthday, I still have your gift at home. I'll bring it by sometime this week. Oh, and you're meant to stroke the spine of the book if you want to open it. It needs a gentle touch, just like women do."

Harry's nose wrinkled. "Please never use that line again."

Alex silently resolved to use it as much as possible.

"I'm going to buy my supplies next week. Come with me, yeah? You can meet my new dog."

* * *

When Sirius broke out of Azkaban, his plan was hodge podge at best. To be frank, all thoughts of escape died within his first month in prison, but the sight of that damned rat in the _Prophet_ reignited the flames of rage that the dementors had managed to snuff out long ago.

He waited until the time was right. When the dementors were least active, less aware, he transformed and snuck out right beneath their noses (if they had any).

Breaking out was one thing, but making his way back to civilisation was another. It involved a lot of walking, a lot of swimming, and a lot of inedible things he managed to stuff down his throat. Whenever he was close to caving, he thought of James, of Lily, of Harry. He thought of Peter, and he was good to go another day.

People were scared to approach him. He didn't make it easy for them, either. If they were remotely magical, he would go haywire. He couldn't tell if they were friend or foe, so he treated them all as potential threats.

The only one who hadn't been wary was a young girl who couldn't have been more than fifteen. Granted, he was too tired and hungry to do more than watch her, and he was glad for that. She fed him and took him in, and even gave him a home in the meantime. She looked every inch a muggle, and so he trusted her blindly.

The first warning came in the form of her father. Seeing him triggered some faint memory in Sirius's mind, but he couldn't determine whether that was good or bad. He began to feel wary then, and the feeling only intensified as he continued to listen to their conversations. The mother was an auror! He needed to get out of there ASAP.

But then the girl mentioned Harry. Sirius couldn't believe it. While the chances that she was talking about his Harry were slim, she noted that his birthday was the next day, and Sirius' hopes went up despite himself. Her decision to name him Lucky (terribly tacky, by the way) suddenly made some sense.

Sirius hadn't cried in some time. The last time he had shed tears had been at Godric's Hollow, and that was mostly gut-wrenching sobbing. He didn't cry at all during his imprisonment—screamed himself raw, burst into mad laughter a few times, and toed the line between sanity and insanity—but he wouldn't cry for them.

Seeing Harry in the flesh, however, made the floodgates he'd locked up twelve years ago creak open again. Dogs couldn't exactly cry, but he did whine an embarrassing amount. Fortunately, the girl was right, and Harry laughed happily as Sirius showered him with a small fraction of the love he had missed out on all these years.

After a furious debate with himself, Sirius came to the conclusion that he could trust the person who had gotten him this far. Alexandra Fortescue stood up for him—Sirius Black, magical Britain's most wanted—and challenged the label that so many simply accepted. What he was about to do was risky, but he figured it would pay off in the long run.

He waited until everyone else was gone. Alexandra was home alone, reading and practising her wand movements, while the cat snoozed away beside her pillow. Sirius almost chickened out, but he knew this was imperative for his plans. Alexandra would cooperate. And if she didn't, well, he would make sure she kept quiet.

Sirius, in his animagus form, sat up from his spot by the door. Alexandra glanced at him, and that was when he made his move. Making sure her eyes were on him, he transformed back to his human self, dirty prison uniform and all.

Her eyes widened comically. She didn't scream, didn't even lift her wand in his direction. "Um," was all she said.

 _So far, so good._ "I need your help," he said, wincing at how raspy his voice sounded after weeks of disuse.

She moved, but only to gather her cat into her arms. "With what?" she asked warily. "If it's, like, murder—"

"No," he said hastily. Now it was his turn to act shocked. "Well, it probably won't come to murder."

"I mean, I'm not totally against murder," she assured him, and wow, this conversation was _not_ heading in the direction he thought it would.

"My name is Sirius Black," he said, attempting to get things back on track. "I was framed, and I need to catch the one responsible in order to clear my name."

She absently ran her fingers through her cat's sleek coat. "Who's responsible, then?"

Sirius's lip curled as he spat, "Peter Pettigrew."

"The one who died?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"He didn't die," he said snappishly. Thoughts of Peter always drove him into a right foul mood. "He's an animagus, like me, except he's a rat – a fitting form for him. I saw him in the newspaper, with a family of redheads. That's when I made my escape."

Alexandra's face pinched up in thought. "The Weasley family? They have a pet rat, and it has—"

"One missing toe?" he interjected. "When I cornered him, Peter cut off his own finger to solidify the fact that he was dead."

"But why?" That seemed to be a favourite phrase of hers.

Fists clenched, Sirius closed his eyes briefly. "He helped Voldemort kill my best friends."

"I see." Alexandra shifted off the bed, and Sirius was on his guard. "First, let's get you some food. I don't think Dad will notice if some of his clothes go missing."

"That's it?" he said, both surprised and suspicious. No way it was that simple. "You believe me just like that?"

"I mean, it makes sense," she said, shrugging. She donned her slippers and left Spitfire on her bed. "And if you had any evil intentions, you would have swiped my wand up by now." She clipped her weapon to her wand holster as she spoke.

"People think _I'm_ the devoted Death Eater, not Peter. I could be deceiving you right now so I can get closer to Harry."

"Yeah, but I have this." Alexandra paused by her desk and picked up what Sirius recognised as a Sneakoscope. "Harry gave me this for my birthday. It's done nothing but sit on my desk for the past month."

Sirius allowed himself a small sigh of relief. She believed him, or at least was pretending to. He followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she asked if he wanted anything for lunch. In the end, she made them a smorgasbord, where they had a little bit of everything.

"So what's your plan?" she asked, nibbling on some fruit.

Sirius choked down a mouthful of salami. "First, we need to snatch up Pettigrew. We make him reveal himself in front of Dumbledore, clear my name, and then I'm a free man."

Alexandra thought for a moment. "I think my mum has a few animagus-proof jars somewhere. I can get to Scabbers—the rat's name—pretty easily, and getting to Dumbledore's office will be even easier. But where will you be when I'm at Hogwarts?"

"I'll be there, trust me."

Alexandra tapped her fingers against the tabletop, eyes distant. "Does anyone know about your animagus ability?"

"Snape might remember," he said with a sneer. "But I'll be sneaky enough that he won't notice me."

The conversation dipped there. Alexandra was lost in thought while Sirius attacked the spread before him. He never realised how much he missed eating like a human.

"You seem really fond of Harry," she noted a minute later. "Why's that?"

Sirius considered her seriously. Alexandra obviously cared for Harry a good deal, and judging by the way he acted around her, the feeling was mutual. Besides, this was the first display of genuine emotion Sirius had seen in her since this entire conversation began. Again, a little suspicious, but his options were very limited at the present moment.

So he threw caution to the wind.

"He's my godson."

Sirius grimaced as the chunk of cheese closest to her melted into a pile of yellow goo. _Such a waste,_ he thought as watched Alexandra wrestled with her emotions to keep a lid on her magic. The fact that she was still having explosive bouts of accidental magic at her age was slightly disconcerting, but Sirius already had enough on his plate, thank you very much.

"So what you're saying is," she began slowly, "Peter Pettigrew's the reason Harry grew up without his parents? Why he was raised by the Dursleys?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Well, then," she said lightly, "that makes things very simple."

He eyed her oddly. "It does?"

"Mmhm." She cut a line through the melted cheese using a stick of celery. "We just have to make sure Pettigrew dies in the most horrid way possible."

Sirius couldn't help but grin. It was dark and twisted, and part of him felt like he was still back in Azkaban. Pettigrew would soon understand the reason behind the expression if it was the last thing he did.


	21. Outside Fortescue's

**A/N:** Thank you to those who left kind and thoughtful reviews. Some, however, were curiously rude and demanding considering this is, y'know, free entertainment.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

 _Outside Fortescue's_

For all that he loved to sleep in, Ron appreciated the daylight — the sun to be specific. He felt like he could never get enough sunlight in his life, but his trip to Egypt certainly rectified that matter. His entire family was sporting a tan, though some lasted longer than others. Percy, for example, was the palest of them all, having spent most of his time either trapped in the hidden corridors of the tombs (courtesy of Fred and George), or locked up in his room in protest (also indirectly due to Fred and George). Ginny was the tannest of them all, having befriended one of the locals during their month there.

"Oh, she told me about that," chirped Hermione as she wiped the corner of her mouth. They were seated outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in hopes of spotting Harry in the throngs of people shopping in Diagon Alley. "Apparently they still keep in touch."

Ron frowned as he connected the dots. "Is that why I haven't seen Errol much? _Ugh,_ Ginny."

"Maybe I should get an owl myself," contemplated Hermione as she grabbed another spoonful of the sundae they were sharing. "That way I won't have to spend my summer waiting for one of you two to owl me."

Ron rolled his eyes. That was the third time this morning alone Hermione had complained about their lack of communication. "I was in _Egypt_ ," he reminded her yet again. "Just like you were in Paris."

"And how long have you been back in England again?"

Ron shoved a scoop of sundae into his mouth in lieu of answering. "At least the weather's nice," he offered, swiping at his chin with the back of his hand.

Hermione frowned lightly even as she handed him a serviette. "That, we can agree on," she said, glancing at the clear blue sky. "You know, Diagon Alley is always unusually cheery whenever I visit. Do you think they apply meteorological magic to ensure an atmosphere conducive to shopping?"

"Sure."

As always whenever she sensed someone was taking the piss, Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked down on him. Ron smiled back guilelessly.

"Oh," Mr Fortescue said in slight surprise as he emerged from his shop. "It's a tad warm today, isn't it? Would you like me to cool down your sundae for you?"

"Yes, please!" Ron responded with a grin as Hermione offered a much more demure, "If you don't mind."

Mr Fortescue tapped his wand against the glass cup, coating it with a thin layer of frost that had Hermione gasping in audible admiration. He received their enthusiastic gratitude with a broad smile and returned inside to his parlour.

"He's always so nice," commented Hermione as they dug into the sundae with renewed gusto. "I see where Alex gets it from."

"That makes one of us," Ron mumbled from around his spoon.

"Don't tell me you're still prejudiced against Slytherins," Hermione groaned, exasperated. "Really, Ronald."

As much as he'd relish informing Hermione she was, in fact, wrong, Ron would rather endure her pestering for a minute than reveal the truth. It wasn't that he _disliked_ Alex, nor did he mind the fact that she was in the House of Snakes (well, he didn't mind _much_ ); something just felt off about her. He couldn't put his finger on it, and Merlin forbid he so much as looked at her funny when Harry and Hermione were around, but still… He couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was more than she seemed.

"Is that…?" Hermione stood from her seat. "It is! Harry!"

Ron followed suit. He scrambled out of his seat and began waving like a madman. "Harry!" he bellowed.

Harry peered up from his inspection of the Firebolt out on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. His face broke into a grin as he rushed over to them.

"You look well," was the first thing Hermione said as soon as she finished hugging him.

"See, Hermione?" preened Ron as wrapped an arm around Harry's scrawny shoulders. "Told you he'd be fine. S'if anyone would dare expel the Great Harry Potter." He couldn't help the smile that poked out at the cheesy title.

Harry elbowed him lightly in retaliation for that, but he was smiling also. "I take it you heard about the incident?"

"It's all very hush-hush," Hermione assured him as she offered the seat beside her. "I only found out because Ron told me. Before I left for Paris, Ginny owled me and asked if I could stay at the Leaky Cauldron right before the beginning of term." Her face lit up at the mere thought of returning to school. Ron exchanged a look with Harry.

"I'm staying at the Cauldron too!" exclaimed Harry. His sunny disposition was a stark contrast from how he appeared when they first met up this time last year. Judging by the happy way Hermione was gazing at him, she was thinking the same thing.

"You should turn your family into balloons more often," Ron said, only half-joking.

That wiped the smile off Hermione's face. "Ron!" she admonished him. "In my opinion, both of you are taking this issue far too lightly. Harry, you could have had your wand snapped."

"Or worse," said Ron, smiling slyly at Harry.

" _Expelled,_ " Harry hissed, putting upon a scandalised expression all too reminiscent of Hermione in first year.

Hermione huffed, but there was definitely amusement glinting in her dark eyes.

"But he wasn't," Ron reminded them smugly. Then realisation struck. "Wait. Why aren't you in trouble?"

Harry shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine," he informed them, idly playing with their melted ice cream. "Fudge met with me right after I left the Dursleys'. I thought about going to Alex's, but I had no clue which way to go, when suddenly this bus appeared out of nowhere."

"The Knight Bus," Ron and Hermione said simultaneously.

"What was it like?" Hermione continued excitedly. "I've always wanted to ride one."

"Trust me: you don't," groaned Ron. He had ridden the Knight Bus a handful of times in his brief life, and none of those experiences were particularly enjoyable. "It's awful."

"It's like the London night bus, but a lot more dodgier," Harry explained using what Ron assumed was the muggle equivalent. He wondered if their version had creepy shrunken heads decorating their dashboards too.

" _Much_ dodgier, you mean," corrected Hermione, adopting an expression Ron secretly deemed as her 'know-it-all' face.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" snarked Harry.

Ron chortled as Hermione's cheeks grew pink with chagrin. Satisfied, Harry continued with his recount: he met the Minister, who promptly waved off any and all of Harry's apologies with a dismissive smile. He even rented a room at the inn for Harry, which struck them all as odd.

"Are all famous people treated this way?" Ron asked only a tad bitterly.

"Definitely not." Hermione paused. "Probably not."

"Alex says he was kissing up to me," Harry added with a look that pretty much summed up how he felt about the situation.

"But why now?" wondered Hermione, her gaze distant. "The only thing that's made ripples in the magical community lately is, well, the escapee Sirius Black."

Ron shivered. "Even hearing his name gives me the chills."

"That's just racist."

Hermione opened her mouth to refute the absurd claim before she noticed Alex's amused smirk. "I'll allow it," she said dryly.

"Working today?" asked Harry.

"How'd you know?"

"The ice cream themed robe is a bit of a giveaway."

It was a soft blue, animated to seem as though ice cream cones and sundaes were cascading downwards like rain. A bit over the top, in Ron's opinion.

"And they say Gryffindors aren't observant," drawled Alex.

Ron puffed up a bit at that. "Who's saying that?"

"Me." Her smile grew like a Cheshire cat's. "What's up, Ron. Saw the article — how was Egypt?"

"Amazing," he admitted, beaming at the memory. "Mum wouldn't stop telling Fred and George off."

"Sounds relaxing." Alex shook her head slightly. "How long will you guys be in Diagon for? My shift ends in five hours."

"We're actually staying at the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione told her brightly. "It's a good thing we booked the rooms in advance; it's absolutely packed right now."

"I wonder why," Alex muttered, shooting Harry an amused look.

Yeah, that made sense. Ron definitely recalled several people in the pub wearing pairs of fake glasses reminiscent of Harry's.

The door chimed again as Mr Fortescue popped his head outside. "Everything all right out here?" he asked, his curious brown eyes darting from Alex to Ron and Hermione. They brightened when they landed on Harry. "Good to see you again, my boy. Back for another sundae?"

"Dad, _please,_ " whined Alex, appearing exasperated. "Harry told me about the freebies and refills — you're gonna give him diabetes."

"There's a potion for that," interjected Hermione, fiddling with her thick hair. "It's truly remarkable."

"Don't encourage him." Alex pushed her dad inside; Mr Fortescue waved at them cheerily as he allowed himself to be corralled in. "I'll see you all later," she called back after them.

Ron shook his head as he watched the door close behind them. "Still don't see the resemblance," he confessed.

"She takes after her mum," assured Harry. He began standing, his back to the alley. "We should go — I think people are noticing I'm here."

"Look, mum! It's Harry Potter!"

All three exchanged a subtle eye-roll.

* * *

Most people would've been freaked out by the fact that their newly acquired pet was, in fact, a human in disguise. Fortunately, Alex was gifted with the power of foreknowledge due to an apparent screw-up in the reincarnation cycle (that was the only explanation she was willing to consider) and so she hadn't reacted as strongly as, say, Ron soon would.

Soon, if things went accordingly, anyway.

She had to admit, though, she was going to miss Sirius's companionship; she _finally_ had someone she could be herself with. The only time Alex felt remotely free was when she was talking to Harry or Spitfire, and even then she had to reign it in — the former because Harry, though accustomed to her biting commentary, still possessed the obliviousness of a child, and the latter because Spitfire was a cat. One-sided conversations with your pet could only do so much.

One of the perks of having parents that worked full-time was that she was left alone quite a lot. This used to bother Alex as a child; before Spitfire came into her life and became her sounding board, she was forced to keep all her thoughts locked up for fear of her parents reading anything she wrote in her diary. Even transcribing it in a foreign language was out of the question what with how easy translation spells were to cast.

Sirius, even in dog form, was a wonderful distraction from things. Once her parents had left for the day, he would usually revert to his human form if he felt like it. He spent that time catching up on the past twelve years either from her own anecdotes or books and the news – both magical and muggle alike. It was refreshing, seeing someone without a muggle background actually partaking in a world beyond their own.

Sirius had smiled when she pointed that out. It was a rather mirthless expression, however. "I suppose that may seem strange to you," he said, flipping through a broadsheet from the dining table. "It's a habit we acquired during the war. Back then, information of any kind was of great importance. It often made the difference between life and death."

Whenever Sirius reflected on the war or his dismal past, he often spent the next few minutes in a doom and gloom sort of mood. Feeling antsy, Alex attempted to take his mind off things by sharing a light-hearted story that usually centred on Harry. Though her endeavours were completely transparent, they never failed to cheer him up – ostensibly, at least.

And Sirius reciprocated the effort. He always seemed to catch her when she was too lost in her thoughts, perhaps because she stared at nothing for long stretches of time. He peppered her with questions whenever he caught her doing that, which was occurring less frequently thanks to all the toys she had bought herself with her basilisk cash.

("There was a _basilisk_ in the castle? And you guys found it?"

"Yah.")

In addition to making donations to Mungo's and several other establishments, Alex bought herself a Gameboy and whatever games she could get hold of. Since they lived in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood, their house didn't have enough magic to interfere with most electronics. She almost cried when she caught her first Pokémon — a fact Sirius seemed to find very disturbing.

The mere memory of his expression had her chuckling. She smirked down at the empty tub of ice cream she was replacing.

"Stop that," Dad instructed from the cash register. "You'll make another toddler cry."

Alex huffed as she closed the display to keep the cold in. "That was _one_ time," she reminded him even as he went to the back for his lunch break. Besides, that baby was close to tears anyway even without her help.

Dad was right, though; she really needed to learn to control her expressions. She could keep it as stoic as necessary while in the Slytherin common room or in similarly risky situations, but outside of that? She was basically an open book.

Speaking of books…

"Hey!" she snapped at the two boys lounging in the store. "Don't open that in here."

Unlike the previous idiot she had warned, this pair listened to her. One was obviously a third-year like Harry and, judging by all the blue he sported, undoubtedly a Ravenclaw. With him was a girl who was about to begin first year if Alex was reading her right. Her book-bag was stuffed to the brim with her required textbooks, not to mention her uniform. She wore a plain bangle decorated with four plastic beads: red, green, blue, and yellow.

 _That's adorable,_ thought Alex.

"Wouldn't even know how to," grumbled the Ravenclaw as he inspected the _Monster Book of Monsters._ His carefree sister continued to nibble at her cone. "What kind of curriculum requires such literature?"

"The magical kind," she sighed, wiping the display clear of fog.

He finally made eye contact with her at that. "You a muggleborn, Fortescue?"

Alex came close to expressing surprise that he knew her name before remembering where, exactly, she was. "Nah," she replied, folding the dishcloth. "Went to a muggle school, though."

He actually appeared shocked at that. "Us too," he admitted. "Uh, I'm Cornfoot, by the way. Stephen Cornfoot."

Alex pinched herself on the leg to keep from laughing at the poor lad's surname. "With a v or a ph?" she asked instead.

"Ph," he replied automatically. "This is my sister"— _please don't say Stephanie—"_ Kim."

Thank Merlin. "Nice to meet you. I'm Alexandra," she said, mostly for Kim's sake. "Are you excited for your first year, Kim?"

"Indubitably," she answered, fiddling with her wand. It was small and gnarled, almost like Duncan's. "I want to be in Hufflepuff."

Stephen's responding sigh was audible. Alex smiled lightly. "Do you wanna hear a secret?" she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper and leaning forward over the counter. "I prefer Hufflepuff over Ravenclaw."

Kim guffawed, which was the kind of sound you'd expect from a man like her dad or Hagrid, not an eleven-year-old girl whose black hair was braided into two pigtails. Stephen flicked a stray peanut at his sister, and before she could retaliate, Alex Vanished their mess.

"Whoa," breathed Stephen, watching her tuck her wand away. "You know the Vanishing Charm?"

 _What, like it's hard?_ "Yep."

"Can you teach me?"

Say what now? "Nope."

Stephen pouted. "Why not?"

Alex gestured at the animated ice creams falling through the folds of her robe. "Do I look like a professor to you?"

"Yes," Kim said sincerely.

Alex stared at her in silent wonderment. Before she could even think of a reply, several new customers came in. Alex pasted on her customer service smile and demeanour and did her best not to thank the gaggle of teens for their timely interruption.

As soon as the customers wandered off, content with their cones, Stephen pounced. (Figuratively. If he had actually attacked her Alex would've sent him flying out the window.)

"You should join the Charms Club," he suggested, approaching her. The counter served as a barrier between herself and the eager Ravenclaw. "We have a Slytherin third-year — Millicent Bulstrode?"

"You do realise that does not exactly inspire me to join, right?" Alex asked, unimpressed. It was hard to make that scepticism work when wearing an ice cream themed robe, but she think she pulled it off based on the way Stephen deflated.

Alex sighed. "Fine. I'll check it out. You owe me, though."

Stephen did a one-eighty. "Great! We meet every Sunday after lunch. See you then!" He grabbed his sister and practically ran out of the parlour, (correctly) assuming she would change her mind if he stayed there any longer.

 _I hate Ravenclaws._

* * *

As soon as she closed up and her dad popped off back home, Alex rushed to the Leaky Cauldron and asked the question that had been burning in her mind all night. Fortunately for her, Hermione was with the boys; they were chilling outside the inn so she could locate them with ease.

"What do you know about Stephen Cornfoot?" she asked in lieu of a greeting.

Ron snickered. "Who?"

"He's in our year," Hermione told her after shooting Ron a disapproving look. "Ravenclaw. "

"He's a nice bloke," offered Harry. "He was nice to me last year when, you know…"

"When people found out you were a parselmouth?" suggested Ron.

"When you were accused of being the heir?" asked Hermione.

"When the Hufflepuffs orchestrated a witch-hunt on you?" was Alex's input.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said, "to all of that."

Hermione winced. "You probably shouldn't say that phrase," she warned Alex. "It gets the more…conservative members of the magical community riled up."

"You mean the purebloods," drawled Alex. Aka the biggest offenders when it came to using the m-word.

"And some half-bloods," Hermione acknowledged with a grimace.

"As fun as this conversation is," interrupted Ron, "dinner's starting soon, and I'm hungry." He gestured towards the inn.

They followed him inside. Alex was familiar with the Leaky Cauldron. Like other witches and wizards living in muggle London, she tended to reach Diagon Alley through the Cauldron's false muggle exterior. Most times she apparated alongside her parents, but when they were gone and she was bored, she had to take this route.

The pub was packed tonight, filled with lodgers now that the term was about to begin. Mr Weasley's head of dark orange hair was quite easy to spot in the brightly lit room. He was seated at the hand of a long table, presumably in wait for the rest of them.

"Hullo, Mr Weasley," greeted Harry as they approached him. Alex smiled at middle-aged man.

"Harry!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "Alexandra! How are you both?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry replied politely.

"Fine, thank you very much." Alex's smile was perfectly in place despite the narrow-eyed glance Harry was shooting her.

Mr Weasley seemed oblivious to this, though. He nodded, satisfied with their answers, and gestured for them to take a seat. As he did so, he put down the paper he was reading. Alex flinched at the familiar—if unhinged—man plastered on the cover.

"May I?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"Of course." Mr Weasley reached past Hermione and gave her the paper.

Alex murmured a distracted thanks, her eyes already on the article. She had yet to see this edition; had her parents hidden it from her?

 _MASS MURDERER REMAINS AT LARGE,_ proclaimed the title. Alex snorted.

 _At large doing what?_ she thought derisively. _Emptying my fridge?_

"Harry told me what you said about his case," Hermione murmured as Mr Weasley and the boys discussed the issue in the background. "The situation seems pretty set. Do you really think he was wrongly prosecuted?"

"They didn't even give him a proper trial," Alex sighed, massaging her temple. "No one bothered, given his background and especially because they were too busy trying to leave the ugly war behind them." Harry's parents, Pettigrew and several others had seemingly been murdered by Sirius Black, yes, but Voldemort had been vanquished. His imprisonment all but signalled the end of the war itself.

Hermione's large front teeth worried her lower lip. "That's not common, is it?" she asked anxiously.

Alex didn't answer — which was an answer in and of itself.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Mr Weasley said in the harshest tone she had ever heard from the typically cheerful man. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

Alex hid behind the newspaper so no one would see her shake with laughter.

* * *

The rest of the Weasley family came streaming down the stairs, their thunderous steps almost drowning out their laughter and chatter. The pub seemed to grow brighter with their presence, and not just in the literal sense. Alex blinked the orange out of her sight as Ginny took the seat on her right.

"I like your robes," she said, settling into her seat.

Alex beamed. "Thanks. This is one of my less garish ones."

"How?" Harry asked flatly.

Two red spots appeared on Ginny's cheeks as she mumbled a hello at Harry. It clashed horribly with her hair. Harry, blind even with his glasses, took no notice, probably because he was too busy trying not to grin at the solemn way Percy was greeting him.

"Harry," Percy said formally, shaking his hand as though he was a bureaucrat rather than a teenager having dinner with a mate of his little brother's. "It's nice to see you. I take it you're well?"

"I'm—"

"Harry!" exclaimed one of the twins, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy—"

"Marvellous," said the other, pushing his twin aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Alex huffed, amused but also irritated – it was a strange combination of feelings only the twins managed to draw from her.

"Ah, Alex!" Both twins reached over to shake a hand each. "How really corking to see you—"

"Is that even a real word?" she wondered, retracting her hands.

"Dunno," confessed the first twin, heading to the other side of the table.

"Percy loves to use it, though," explained the second as he sat across Hermione.

Percy cleared his throat pointedly as he sat beside Ginny. "I do hope you two behave better when we're back at school," he said, tapping the badge on his robes.

Alex leaned forward to get a better look at the thing. "Oh," she murmured in slight surprise. "Head Boy? Congrats, Percy."

Percy preened. "Thank you, Alexandra."

"No, no," said Gred. "You're reading that wrong."

Forge grinned. "The HB actually stands for horrible bast—"

"Fred!" snapped Mrs Weasley. "George!" The fierce expression on her face mellowed out immediately once she turned to Harry and Alex. "Percy is the second Head Boy in the family," she informed them proudly as she sat at the other end of the table from her husband.

"And last," Fred muttered, playing with the cutlery that had appeared on their table.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" scoffed George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

"You should want to set a better example for your sister!" scolded Mrs Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," Percy said loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner."

Alex frowned after him. "You guys should be nicer to him," she told the twins once Percy was out of earshot. "He's your brother."

"That's _exactly_ why we treat him like that," Fred tried to explain.

"He is pretty insufferable," added Ron. He quailed under his mother's glare, though.

"You wouldn't understand." George dismissed her with a sneer. "You're an only child, right, Fortescue?"

"Yes," she admitted grudgingly. "Unless you count Harry."

"We don't," said the twins.

"I don't," added Harry.

Alex threw her head back at them like she'd seen Bhagat do occasionally – his condescending looks were typically directed at desserts, however. Huh, maybe that was why he disliked her?

"Being an ice cream vendor is a dangerous job," she murmured to herself, shaking her head.

The twins and Ginny turned to look at her.

"You get used to it," Ron assured them, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.

Dinner that night was surprisingly enjoyable. Alex had never eaten at the Leaky Cauldron before; although it paled in comparison to her parents' cooking as well as the Hogwarts elves', she could see why it was such a hotspot. They even had dessert, which was slightly disappointing. Alex tried to put away her Fortescue Parlour discount coupons back in her robes as subtly as she could, but she was pretty sure Ginny took notice. Alex slid her one to keep her mum.

"So," said Alex, turning to Hermione, "how was France? I hear the people there can be pretty anti-Asian."

Hermione's eyes widened comically. "What?" she spluttered, her food momentarily forgotten. "Where'd you hear that?"

Alex shrugged. "My parents went there for their honeymoon," she explained, concentrating on getting a pea on each prong of her fork. "I guess things could've changed since the last time they were there."

"Oh. Well, I didn't notice anything of the sort," said Hermione, frowning. "Although the wizards and witches there aren't the friendliest when interacting with the non-magical community."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Do tell," she said, popping the peas into her mouth.

"I've heard about that," chimed in Ginny. "French wizards and witches like to play pranks on the muggles there, right?"

"Not just muggles." Hermione pursed her lips together. "Muggleborns too."

The way she stabbed her food with her fork indicated that Hermione had either witnessed of experienced said instances of muggle-baiting on her trip. They knew better than to ask for an elaboration, however. Alex just hoped Hermione had retaliated justly.

They were just getting started on dessert when Fred asked his parents how they were all getting to King's Cross tomorrow. All movement came to a halt when Mr Weasley informed them that they were, in fact, being provided with cars from the Ministry itself.

"Why?" said Percy curiously.

The twins used that opening to pounce. Apparently, the cars were a reward for Percy's new status as Humongous Bighead. As Mrs Weasley forced them to settle, Alex and the trio exchanged a speculative look. Harry appeared particularly disturbed by the Ministry's continued generosity.

"Well, as we haven't got a car anymore," Mr Weasley continued patiently, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favor."

He sounded casual enough, but Alex had spent enough time watching dodgy liars at school to spot the tells. Mr Weasley's red ears and inability to hold anyone's gaze were major ones.

"Good thing, too," Mrs Weasley added briskly. So she was in on it as well. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground! You _are_ all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," sighed Percy. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs Weasley called down the table.

Ron scowled at Percy. He truly was everyone's favourite punching bag. Alex patted him on the head in consolation.

"I'm not a ruddy cat," he hissed, slapping her hand away.

"You look like Hermione's one, though," Ginny chipped in with a broad grin.

Alex gasped, delighted. "You have a cat?" she asked, whirling towards Hermione.

Smiling, Hermione nodded. "Bought him from the Menagerie earlier today. He's _gorgeous -_ you'll love him."

She was right, of course. There was a lot a fluffy animal had to do for Alex not to fawn over it. It took a few minutes for Crookshanks the cat to warm up to her, but when he did, he wouldn't get off her lap - which was great, except he was really big and _really_ heavy.

"You sure he isn't part-tiger?" Alex asked once more as she flexed her foot. Either Crookshanks was oblivious to her discomfort or he simply didn't care. If she knew cats as well as she thought she did, Alex was betting on the latter.

"I'm not convinced," announced Ginny. She was sitting beside Alex on the bed, happily patting the napping cat.

"The witch at the shop said he was part-kneazle," Hermione informed them as she organised her trunk for the seventh time. "So he's a bit more exceptional than the average housecat."

Ginny slid her eyes to Alex, smirking slightly. "She's insulting Spitfire, you know."

Alex gasped indignantly, startling Crookshanks. "Hermione, how _dare_ you. I shan't let this slide. Wizard's duel, right now, let's go."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with amusement. "But then you'd have to push Crookshanks off your lap. That's a felony right there."

"Hm. True." Alex flopped down on the bed, allowing Crookshanks to get up and knead her belly. "Duel postponed."

While Hermione and Ginny moved on to gossiping about their Housemates, Alex revised what she knew about kneazles. They were shockingly intelligent, larger than normal cats and-most importantly of all-had tails resembling that of lions.

"I doubt that's what's most important," said Hermione, frowning.

Alex blushed lightly at the realisation she had been caught voicing her thoughts again. "Agree to disagree," she replied.

"I do wonder, though," began Ginny. "How smart _is_ Crookshanks?"

Alex discovered the answer to that question later in the night.


	22. A Veritable Petting Zoo

Chapter Twenty-Two

 _A Veritable Petting Zoo_

Alex's stay at the Leaky Cauldron was unplanned. She could've easily returned home after dinner by catching up with her dad as he closed up the shop, but both him and her mates insisted she stay and take a Ministry car with them to King's Cross the next day. Dad would meet up with her before they left with her things for school – already packed, of course.

"Say bye to Lucky for me," she told her dad when he came to pick her up from the inn.

"Will do," he assured her. He gave her a hug before exiting so he could apparate home.

It was unprecedented, this change in plans. Hopefully Sirius would be fine with her early leave and make his way to Hogwarts as scheduled. If not, well, they'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

Yawning, Alex turned to head back to her room when she noticed someone lurking by the bar. The nest of hair atop their head indicated it was Harry, and his body language practically screamed _eavesdropping._

Alex, having mastered the art of walking quietly, snuck up behind him. He was so busy listening in on Mr and Mrs Weasleys' argument that he didn't even notice her until she clapped a hand to his mouth.

Harry flinched violently, elbowing her in the process. The movement was swift and sharp thanks to his ridiculously good reflexes, and Alex wheezed.

" _Shh_ ," hissed Harry.

Alex glowered. She rubbed her sore spot as she righted herself from the doubled over position Harry had sent her in. To his credit, he shot her an apologetic glance before turning his green eyes back to the crack in the door he was peering through.

There was a thud on wood, as if someone had banged their fist against a table. Alex was startled into sobering, and she too leaned in to determine what was going on.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you?" Mr Weasley demanded, sounding fed up.

Alex frowned. If anyone spoke to her like that, she'd kick their arse.

"They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts…he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that."

The more Mr Weasley spoke, the higher Harry's shoulders inched upwards. His expression was frozen save for the terror in his eyes, and Alex gripped his forearm to help keep him grounded.

Ron's parents were now discussing the presence of the Azkaban guards that would be stationed around the school grounds. Harry didn't react to this piece of information, most likely due to his ignorance regarding dementors. Alex didn't have that luxury, however, and bit her lip at the mere thought of the ghastly creatures.

Sirius didn't talk about the dementors of Azkaban, but Alex knew without a doubt that they were one of the reasons behind the dark bags beneath his eyes and his constant night terrors. It was why he hated the dark, and why he tended to nap during the day.

Harry's arm slipped from her grip, forcing her back to reality. Behind the partially closed door, Mr and Mrs Weasleys' chairs sounded as though they were being pushed back. Harry nodded to the bar; they scampered towards, ducking behind the counter just before the door opened and the adults went up the stairs.

"The coast is clear," she whispered to Harry.

He didn't seem to hear her, however. Harry was slumped against the counter, his face dazed. "Did you know?" he asked, voice distant. "That Sirius Black is after me?"

"No." Because he wasn't. "He wasn't even a Death Eater, Harry. People are mistaking him for his brother."

Harry's brow furrowed, but he seemed more focused. "How d'you know that?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

"I read up on him," she replied, shrugging. "Like I said, his situation isn't as clear-cut as people seem to think it is. Besides," she continued, nudging him with a smile on her face, "it's not the first time someone's been after you. If you can take down a Dark Lord not once but twice, you'll have no problem defeating some malnourished prisoner. Hell, Dudley probably has a better chance of getting you."

Harry actually cracked a smile at that. He bumped her shoulder back. "You sure know how to cheer someone up," he said dryly. But he got up all the same.

"What were you even doing down here?" she asked as they emerged from the bar.

"Oh, right." Harry ducked into the room the Weasley parents had been occupying and returned with a small bottle in hand. "Ron's rat tonic. Scabbers has been feeling awful lately."

Alex frowned. "Poor thing. I wanna check up on him."

"Sure. Just don't let Hermione's cat near him – Crookshanks _hates_ Scabbers."

Alex witnessed the truth behind Harry's words later that night. She rented her own room on the same floor as the Weasleys, as the rooms on Harry's floor were priced rather exorbitantly for an outdated inn. Regardless, Alex was faced with the prospect of sleeping alone for the first time in years. Spitfire wasn't here to keep her company, and she didn't have the muffled presence of her roommates to dampen her noisy mind. So she used Crookshanks instead.

The half-kneazle didn't care either way, and Hermione trusted in Alex's ability to handle her pet in the befitting manner. Whereas Spitfire merely tolerated her nuzzling, Crookshanks seemed to revel in it. He must've been starved of attention in the long years he had been kept in the store, she realised.

With that thought in mind, Alex pecked Crookshanks on his fuzzy head and drifted off to sleep with him nestled in her arms.

She was awoken much earlier than she would've liked when Crookshanks wriggled out of her grasp. Alex sneezed as his fur brushed against her nose. She accommodated his need to leave, assuming he was uncomfortable or needed to use the litterbox she had set up in the adjacent bathroom.

Then she noticed the tension in his fuzzy body. All remnants of sleep fled her system at the sight of his upright ears and alert eyes. His tail was pointing downwards and flicked from side to side warily

Crookshanks hopped onto the floor. He glanced at the door and then at her, as though asking, "What are you waiting for?"

Cursing softly, Alex threw her covers off and hurried to open the door. She regretted not bringing her sneakoscope with her — it remained in her room at all times, because when she walked around with it it would never stop buzzing. No matter, though; Crookshanks seemed to function well enough as a substitute.

Her wand slid out of its holder and into her hand. She cast a Silencing Charm on the creaky door. Her footsteps made little to no noise; if she could sneak up on Harry with her shoes on, she could do this with them off.

The corridor was dark and quiet in a way the hallways of Hogwarts could never manage. (It helped that there were no portraits or ghosts to liven things up.) The only illumination provided was the dim lamps lining the walls; it sufficed, though, so Alex didn't bother with a lumos in case she needed her wand for much more dire purposes.

Crookshanks led the way. His scrunched up nose was pressed against the floor as he audibly sniffed out whatever was bothering him.

They made their way down to the dining area uninterrupted. It was kind of eerie, how it seemed as though they were the only ones left in the entire building.

Alex tightened her grip on her wand. The situation was definitely getting to her.

Crookshanks came to a stop at the door Alex knew led to the kitchens. The half-kneazle was watching her expectantly. Feeling oddly sheepish, Alex nudged the door open.

There were no elves inside — they were probably asleep somewhere in the inn. That didn't mean the kitchen was empty, however.

"Scabbers," she said faintly. "Did Ron forget to feed you?"

The rat peered up at her from his position by the pantry doors. They were open, which meant that either Scabbers was the strongest rat in the world, or Pettigrew had reverted to his human form for the sake of a snack.

Alex tried to clamp down on the ripple of disdain that swept through her. She bit her lip to keep her expression neutral as she leaned down to ostensibly grab some nuts for Scabbers.

Something must've tipped him off—be it her expression, the twitch of her wand, or merely the sight of Crookshanks guarding the only exit in the room—because Scabbers suddenly dashed to the side like his traitorous life depended on it.

Alex didn't even have time to curse. " _Stupefy_!" she yelled, pointing her wand at the spot of grey in her periphery. She missed; he was too small, and too quick.

That didn't stop her from trying. Alex relied on her instincts to gauge approximately where Scabbers would dart towards, and she was rewarded on her third attempt when her stunner grazed him.

But it wasn't a direct hit. He didn't even seem to feel the pain, fuelled by the very adrenaline coursing through Alex's veins.

Despair began to carve a hole in her chest as she saw Scabbers dart towards the rat-sized hole by the door.

"Crookshanks!" she bellowed.

He rightfully took that as his cue. Crookshanks left his post by the door and leapt at Scabbers, empowered by his feline instincts. Scabbers emitted a trill of terror as Crookshanks captured him in his maw. Before he could even think of transforming back into his human form, Alex finally nailed him with a stunner.

Alex permitted herself a moment to lean back and sigh in relief before grabbing a container from one of the cupboards and charming so it was animagus-proof. It was no easy feat, the spell, but Sirius had drilled it into roughly a hundred times until she could cast it in her sleep.

 _Sirius._ She had to get to him asap. Nothing seemed to be going according to plan, but then again, things rarely did. All that mattered was that she had Pettigrew.

She would die before she let him escape.

A soft meow drew Alex from her reverie. She peered down at Crookshanks and smiled. "Thanks for your help," she said, kneeling to give him some well-deserved pats. "I guess you really did inherit that kneazle-like intelligence."

Crookshanks merely blinked at her.

Alex continued, undeterred by the lack of response — she was well accustomed to holding one-sided conversations with Spitfire, after all. "I'm gonna take the Knight Bus to my place," she informed Crookshanks with one final stroke of his ear. "Then I'll let Sirius decide what to do next."

The plastic container tipped dangerously in her hands. It seemed Pettigrew was awake, and had overheard her conversation with Crookshanks.

He scrambled furiously against the container, and seemed to distort and morph as though struggling to complete his transfiguration. Alex's spellwork held steady, however, and she watched with quiet disgust as Pettigrew was forced into reverting back to his typical form as Scabbers.

She smiled.

* * *

 _Gotta get back home. Personal emergency. Meet you lot at school._

 _Alex_

Curt but sufficient. Satisfied with her note, Alex collected what few belongings she had brought to the inn with her and bid Crookshanks goodbye.

She left via the muggle exit—Diagon Alley had no roads—and glanced around once before lifting her wand as though she were signalling a car.

A magnificent explosion of noise preceded the appearance of a triple-decker bus. It was nauseatingly purple; Alex actually winced at the sight of it.

 _How_ _tacky,_ she thought even as she boarded the metal death-trap. She waved off the obligatory introduction speech presented by the conductor that night—a pimply bloke by the name of Stan Shunpike—and offered him a galleon for his troubles after stating her destination. Stan, delighted by the generous tip, left her alone for the entire trip.

The bus took off before Alex could even get a proper look at its interior. She scrambled onto a nearby seat with a grunt, openly admiring the way the wizards and witches in the back were able to sleep through all the sharp turns.

No wonder her parents had discouraged her from using the bus except as a last resort. From a very young age Alex had been instructed to stick to either of her parents whenever she was far from home. If she ever ended up separated from them, though, she was permitted to use the Knight Bus to get back home.

Alex kept a tight hold on the makeshift sack in her lap. It used to hold potatoes but, well, she figured she needed it more than the Leaky Cauldron did. If she pressed her fingers right against it, she could feel Pettigrew clawing at the container within.

Ten minutes later, the bus came to a stop on her street. She hadn't given the conductor her exact address, appropriately wary of anyone keeping track of her, and so had to walk several minutes to reach her house.

Alex closed her eyes briefly. The only bright spots of magic she managed to take note of were herself and Pettigrew. So far, so good.

It must've made quite a sight: a fourteen-year-old girl in what looked like a nightgown scurrying through the streets with a burlap sack slung over her shoulder. There was going to be a PSA because of her, she was sure of it.

Quiet as a mouse (hah), Alex unlocked her front door and closed it behind her. Wary of waking her parents, Alex tip-toed inside.

The sight of two glowing eyes staring down at her from the top of her stairs almost made Alex shriek in surprise. She managed to stifle it into a hiss instead.

"Sirius?" Although hushed, her whisper sounded almost deafening in the silence of the still house.

The air shifted as Sirius reverted to his human form. With a lightness of foot that seemed to contrast with his rugged appearance, Sirius hurried down the stairs before a traitorous creak could alert the resident auror.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice low. Concern knitted his brow as he scanned her for any indication of her sudden arrival. "Your dad said you were staying at Diagon Alley."

Alex could barely contain the excitement bubbling within her. "I've got Pettigrew."

She could pinpoint the second realisation hit him. Sirius's eyes lit up as he glanced at the sack in her tight grip. "He's in there?" he asked a tad breathlessly.

Alex nodded. "You might wanna reapply all the protective charms and stuff," she said, handing him the bag.

Her expression contorted into one of furious envy as Sirius shot a stunner _through_ the plastic container – using her wand too! Sure, he had over two decades' experience over her, but he had been out of practise, and wasn't even using a wand that had chosen him. It pissed her off.

Sirius paused between charms to eye Pettigrew's unconscious form like the canary who had gotten the cream (the dog who had gotten the rat?). Alex was all for gloating and basking over the defeat of one's enemies, but the more time they spent dilly-dallying, there was a higher likelihood of something going amiss.

Fortunately, Sirius seemed aware of this as well. He wrapped it up fairly quickly and stored the container in the deceptively large pocket of the robes Alex had purchased for him.

They shared a look. "What now?" she asked.

"Same as the original plan," Sirius replied. "We go to Dumbledore."

Alex glanced at the clock mounted by the dining room. Dumbledore was surely asleep by now, and even if he wasn't, how were they going to get to Hogwarts in the first place?

"The gates are locked," Alex reminded him, trepidation growing with every second. "They stay locked unless you have permission from the headmaster."

Sirius's eyes twinkled with the dark. "I know a way."

Without any further explanation, he held out his arm. Somewhat sceptically, Alex took it.

But where were they apparating to?

* * *

The Shrieking Shack. They were in Charmed's number one spookiest spot in Magical Britain, as voted by its readers and anyone else who had had the misfortune of glimpsing the haunted house.

And she was _inside_ it.

"It's not that bad," Sirius told her.

A giant roach scuttled over her foot. Alex almost cried then and there.

 _Well,_ she thought dismally as she watched Sirius scope out the place, _at least there aren't any rats around._ Real ones, anyway.

"Not even the ghosts dare approach the Shack," Alex informed Sirius, partially to winge but also because the tense silence was eating at her.

Sirius kicked aside a broken plank. "You talk to the ghosts?" he asked. He knelt down and began clearing away the dirt and dust with his hand.

"They talk to me."

She watched in surprise as Sirius unveiled a trap door. He pulled it open with an ease that bespoke familiarity.

"My mates used to access this secret passage all the time," explained Sirius as he helped her down. "The only reason people think it's haunted is because of us."

Alex stood aside so Sirius could make the small jump. "Somehow that makes me more apprehensive," she admitted, casting a _lumos._

It illuminated the dank tunnel just in time for her to catch Sirius's amused smile. "It's very fortunate for us that it's a half-moon tonight," he commented as they made their way through the tunnel.

Alex stared blankly at the back of his head. Was Sirius into astrology?

They emerged from the tunnel just as she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Alex relished the fresh, crisp air for a moment before realising where they were.

She pointed her wand at the tree at their backs. "Isn't this the Weeping Willow?" she asked with an audible gulp.

"Yes," Sirius confirmed with a casual air she thought incongruous to the situation. He tapped his foot against a notable knot formed by the root of the tree, and the Willow stopped what little movement it began. "Ta-da."

"Hm," she murmured. "I'm starting to think your time at Hogwarts was much more fulfilling than mine."

"Don't fret," he assured her as they began the trek up to the castle. "You have a few years yet."

Yeah, well, if her journal was any indication, the next couple of years weren't going to be a picnic.

They were a minute into their walk when the she felt it — a sudden chill that crept down from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. It was the only warning she got before several dementors swept towards them.

They looked as though someone had draped a cloak as deep and dark as the night sky atop of a decaying skeleton and then animated it. They were terrifying enough even without their ability to drain the very life out of people.

Alex turned, about to call for Sirius, when she saw him crouched on the ground on all fours. He was groaning as though in immense pain, and Alex knew with startling clarity that she was on her own.

She had read up about dementors, of course; even before meeting Sirius she was well aware of the demonic creatures. Dementors, lethifolds, boggarts – those three had taken turns plaguing her dreams when she was younger.

And for good reason, too. All but one of the dementors zeroed in on her, apparently finding her much more interesting than their actual charge. If dementors could drool, they would be salivating right now.

It was a free for all, and she was the main course.

Alex knew, on an intellectual level, the spell to ward off dementors. They fed off misery and despair, and so you had to draw on your happiest memory to properly cast the patronus charm. It had never worked for her, not when she was at a safe distance from any potential threats, and definitely not now.

As the icy cold seeped into her veins, Alex tried her to best to cast any and all spells that came to mind: _stupefy, bombarda, impedimenta._ None of them worked.

" _Protego,"_ she rasped. A thin shield bubbled out from the tip of her wand, barely covering her let alone Sirius. The dementor that tried to breach the barrier hissed as though burned, but it was only a matter of time before what was left of her strength would peter out.

Her shield fizzled out the same moment her knees gave out under her. Alex collapsed onto the ground, barely feeling the small pinpricks of the dewy grass beneath her. The only thing she was aware of at the moment was the death rattle of the dementors as they leaned down for a Kiss.

Her vision darkened; her eyelids grew heavy. The last thought she had was one of regret. Sirius had deserved better.

And so had she.


	23. Werewolves and Dementors

Chapter Twenty-Three

 _Werewolves and Dementors_

If Remus had to describe his life using a single word, his chief option would be: regret. _Mistake_ also fit the bill, but he felt as though his word of choice encompassed all that and more.

The first significant regret he had ever experienced was perhaps a nonsensical one – yet at the same time it wasn't. After being bitten by Greyback, Remus wished he hadn't been the spawn of Lyall Lupin, wished he hadn't been bestowed such an ironic name, and definitely wished he hadn't been born at all.

Afterwards, his life had not been devoid of all hope just yet. To his family's immeasurable relief, young Remus had been allowed to attend Hogwarts, provided he spend his transformative nights off campus lest he attack someone when he wasn't quite himself. There, at school, he almost felt like a normal boy. He excelled in his classes, became prefect, and had the best friends anyone could ask for.

Until one of them tried to murder the rest.

When Remus learnt of Sirius's escape from Azkaban, he felt conflicted. Objectively, he should've been horrified. A vile mass murderer was loose in the world, and such a familiar one at that. But it was precisely due to this familiarity that Remus couldn't bring himself to aid the magical community in their manhunt for Sirius.

He was an awful person, true; he had come to terms with his selfishness long ago. But he could not bear to live as the last remaining Marauder.

So it was with some reluctance that Remus accepted Dumbledore's job offer as Hogwarts's newest Defence professor. According to his old headmaster, the previous professor was discovered to have been a fraud. Remus had thought it a stroke of good luck—long overdue—that Dumbledore had even remembered him, let alone hire him. It wasn't until he formally signed onto the position that the cunning old man revealed his ulterior motive.

"I take it you've heard the news?" Dumbledore had asked once he received Remus's signature on the scroll. It rolled itself up and drifted into the old wizard's open palm.

"You mean Black's escape," Remus concluded tiredly. He glanced at the other tables surrounding them, as though expecting to see Sirius lounging by the bar flirting with Madam Rosmerta.

Dumbledore saved his response until Rosmerta herself delivered their meals. The inn was empty for the moment save for themselves and a handful of isolated diners, and besides, how often did one get to wait on one of the greatest wizards in history?

"There you are, gentlemen," Madam Rosmerta said, smiling. "Let me know if I can get you anything else."

"We'll be sure to, my dear," acquiesced Dumbledore. Remus smiled his thanks even as Rosmerta's eyes dimmed with pity when she glanced at him.

He waited until Dumbledore lifted his utensils to do the same. Remus's roast chicken tasted as good as it smelt – just like he remembered. It was comforting to know that after all these years, some things hadn't changed.

The conversation he was having dispelled such illusions, however.

"No one has managed to escape from Azkaban prison before," continued Dumbledore. "Yet Sirius Black was able to do so completely undetected."

Remus took his time chewing and swallowing even though Dumbledore was so clearly waiting for an explanation. _It's because he's an animagus,_ part of him wanted to confess.

Instead, he said, "He was always the most conniving out of all us."

Dumbledore levelled him with a sombre look. "It is conjectured that Sirius will seek to end what he began twelve years. The Ministry believes he will attempt to infiltrate Hogwarts sometime this year."

Remus froze as the implications sank in. _Harry._ James and Lily's son.

"Have the proper preventative measures been arranged?" he asked, mouth dry.

Dumbledore's expression hardened in a way Remus hadn't witnessed in years, not since the war. "The Ministry has stationed the guards of Azkaban themselves around the perimeter of Hogwarts," he said darkly.

The wrinkles in Remus's brow deepened with bewilderment. "That doesn't make any sense," he exclaimed. If Sirius could slink past a whole horde of them in Azkaban itself, who was to say he wouldn't do so again?

"It does not," agreed Dumbledore. He took a sip from his goblet, his ever-watchful eyes remaining on Remus. "Are you sure you have no idea how he was able to slip through the dementors' grasp? None at all?"

"I'm sorry." Remus lowered his gaze onto his still-full plate. "I can't help you."

He would try, though – if not for Dumbledore then at least for Harry. The poor boy had been robbed of so much in life. If Remus could seize Sirius for himself and demand some sorely needed answers, then that was as much closure as he was going to get.

That was provided Sirius was no longer delirious, of course. Remus had visited him in prison once, half a year after the decisive attack at Godric's Hollow. Those six months had not been kind to Remus, and less still with Sirius. His visit was moot; Sirius hadn't recognised him. The realisation hurt more than expected.

Such was the power of dementors, he supposed. Remus loathed the idea of having them haunt the school grounds where they could prey on students and staff alike — some of whom were unlikely to have even heard of the Patronus Charm, let alone know how to cast one. Dumbledore had assured the professors that the students would be carefully supervised and had asked for several of them to board the Express just in case.

Remus had volunteered, as had Professors Sprout and Flitwick. They were to be stationed intermittently throughout the train in case anything was to happen. The Ministry assured them that nothing would, of course, but only they would be fool enough to blindly trust dementors.

Sighing, Remus heaved himself out of his plush four-poster. Sleep seemed to be eluding him tonight, despite the stressful transformation last week. He needed all the rest he could get before tomorrow—the first day of term, the first day of his new job—but being in the castle was presently doing him more harm than good.

He decided on a walk to soothe his turbulent stomach. When he was younger, and his bite mark used to keep him up with its grating pain, his mother used to put together a strange concoction composed of cocoa powder, honey and a secret ingredient. She called it her own personal sleeping potion, and it never failed to offer him a restful respite despite the utter lack of magical blood in her veins.

But she was no longer of this realm, having died in the war like so many of his loved ones. Remus blamed himself and ultimately his father for her demise: had Hope Howell never met Lyall Lupin, she would have just been another nameless muggle. She would've lived a happy, long life ignorant of the convoluted world running parallel to hers. She wouldn't have had die alone after being tortured for information she didn't have.

Remus shuddered. He tried casting the Warming Charm on himself before realising it was futile – the hair on the back of his neck was still raised. The last time he had felt this way had been, why, twelve years ago.

He stopped dead in his tracks as something dark swooped past the window at the end of the hall. Feeling his heart throb in his chest, Remus sprinted outside. His dread morphed into horror as his suspicions were confirmed.

Someone had set the dementors off. Remus didn't bother contemplating who; he simply whipped out his wand and bellowed _"Expecto patronum!"_ at the wraiths swarming the grounds.

They flinched back with an unearthly hiss that would sear itself into Remus's nightmares for a long time to come. The silvery wolf that burst from the tip of his wand snarled as it chased the last of the dementors away before dissipating like morning mist.

Remus had but a moment to catch his breath. Then he recognised the unmoving figure on the ground, and he felt his world tilt on its axis.

He felt his heart break all over again. With halting steps, Remus approached Sirius's fallen body. Before he could make sense of the tumultuous emotions raging within him, he heard a groan.

* * *

Alex woke up with a gasp. For a brief, nauseating second, she thought she was dead (again). But no, if she had died, she wouldn't be feeling like shite.

With unprecedented speed, Alex turned to the side and dry-heaved until her stomach stopped buzzing like a wasp's nest. When she went to swipe at her runny nose, she discovered her cheeks were moist with tears.

"Am I crying _?_ " she wondered incredulously. Merlin, how lame was _that_?

"A natural reaction," assured a voice to her right. It belonged to a mousy man in shabby robes — he was presently bent over Sirius's prone form.

Alex flinched. She scrambled for her wand, which had fallen from her lax grip the same time her feeble shield had flickered out of existence. Her head swam as she recalled what happened right before she had passed out.

"You saved us," she realised, unsteadily pulling herself up.

"I…yes," he finally managed. He glanced at Sirius, who was definitely breathing. "Am I correct to assume you two arrived together?"

 _Stun him._ Alex dismissed that plan of action with a slight shake of her head. Even if she hadn't just been attacked, she doubted she'd be quick enough to disarm this stranger at such close quarters. This time, she had to rely on her words and not her wand.

Alex lowered her weapon but left it unsheathed. "I brought him here," she confessed. She maintained her calm disposition even as the man whirled to face her, eyes wide with alarm and distrust. "He's innocent – we have proof."

"What do you mean he's _innocent?_ " he sputtered, standing up straight. "That's nonsense!"

Whoa, did this bloke know Sirius? Like, personally? He was far too hysterical otherwise.

"It's true," Alex continued evenly. "We've caught the real culprit, and we were on our way to Dumbledore when the d-dementors caught wind of us."

Whatever this man's problem was, at least it didn't obscure his rationality completely. He glanced at the sky, which was lightening in a way that signalled the night was almost over.

"We should get you inside," he decided. "The dementors mightn't return, but if they do, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold them off again."

Alex nodded jerkily. "Will he be all right?" she asked.

The wizard glanced between Alex and Sirius, his brow furrowed. To her immense relief, he flicked his wand in the motion Alex identified as the Warming Charm; he then cast a silent _levicorpus_. Seeing Sirius float like that was supremely unsettling.

Alex warmed herself up with her own charm as she followed the mystery man up to the castle. "Are you with the Ministry?" she asked, her eyes darting skywards. She blanched as something shifted, but it was a mere cloud.

"The only Ministry representatives here are the dementors," the man said wryly. He was oblivious to her flinch. "I'm the new Defence professor, Remus Lupin."

An unfamiliar name paired with an unfamiliar face. "Alex Fortescue. I go to school here."

Remus sighed. "I had hoped to meet my students in a less conflicting circumstance," he admitted.

It took Alex a second to register that he was joking. She smiled, her dry lips cracking slightly at the move. "Don't feel too bad. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, due to the curse and all."

"Curse?" Lupin asked distractedly as he guided Sirius's still form into the castle.

"Yeah." Alex felt the stiffness in her shoulders dissipate now that they were no longer outdoors. "We go through a Defence professor every year."

Lupin sighed once more. Alex had the feeling it was an action he was well accustomed with.

They reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office unencumbered. She waved to Michael the gargoyle from behind Remus as he stated his urgent need to speak with the headmaster. Michael remained still as a statue from several minutes before leaping aside.

As much as Alex wanted to extract herself from the situation to avoid any scrutiny—from Dumbledore or the Ministry—she felt like she owed to Sirius to see this thing to the end. She didn't trust the adults to deal with it appropriately either way.

"Well," said Dumbledore, his eyes darting between the haggard Lupin, the drained Alex and the comatose Sirius, "this is certainly a surprise."

 _The real surprise is your nightgown,_ thought Alex. It was a soft shade of navy, and had sheep frolicking and hopping all over the place. Alex had the same set when she was younger. Seeing one of the most revered wizards in history in such a getup was oddly soothing. Privately, she wondered if he had the matching sheep slippers.

His reaction was underwhelming to be sure. As one of the oldest living wizards in the world, Dumbledore must've witnessed more than his fair share of bizarre incidents in his life.

"Sit, sit," urged Dumbledore. He reclined in his own seat behind his table. "I'll order some hot cocoa for us all."

"Yes, please," Alex mumbled, rubbing her eyes. It was so warm and cosy in the office; she had almost forgotten what it was like to be beside a real, functioning fireplace.

They had one in the Slytherin common room, of course, but it burned green because their Founder was a drama queen. It wasn't even _warm,_ just aesthetically pleasing. Ron and Harry had deemed it stupid after their little stint with the Polyjuice, but Alex loved their useless fireplace anyway.

Remus had just finished summarising his part of the story. They were now waiting for her side of things. Alex cleared and throat and recited the version of events she and Sirius had decided on long ago.

It aligned with reality for the most part: she had been woken up by Crookshanks, who was chasing Scabbers. To keep Hermione's new pet from murdering Ron's old one—and thereby destroying their already questionable friendship—Alex had set off after them. Crookshanks had captured Scabbers between his paws right after they burst out of the Leaky Cauldron.

"To avoid being eaten, Pettigrew shifted into his human form and lunged towards me," continued Alex, her eyes on the tabletop. "Then a dog leapt out of the shadows and landed on top of him; the dog's teeth were bared as though it wanted to rip Pettigrew's throat out. I stunned him, and then the dog turned into a man."

She bit her lip. "I almost stunned him too," she confessed, glancing at the unconscious body beside Dumbledore and Lupin. "But he had just saved me, so I figured I'd hear him out. His story made sense, and I had seen him around Diagon Alley before, so…" Alex shrugged.

Dumbledore stared at her levelly. "I'm disappointed in you, Miss Fortescue."

The shock of his statement almost had Alex slipping out of her seat. Of all the responses she had been expecting, heavy dissatisfaction hadn't been one of them. A traitorous voice in the back of her head wondered how differently the headmaster would've reacted if she were a Gryffindor instead.

"As a young witch with a keen sense of self-preservation, I had thought you would have react more sensibly when approached by a wanted mass murderer," declared Dumbledore. "Alas, we all the more in your debt for your brief lapse in judgement, for otherwise an innocent man's name would have remained besmirched while the guilty party remained free."

Alex pressed a hand to her head through the rollercoaster of emotions Dumbledore had inflicted on her. The old man didn't seem to be intent on a response, though; he moved towards Sirius and directed an _rennervate_ his way.

Sirius shot up with surprising spryness. He glanced around wildly, his frazzled state reminding Alex of how he appeared the first time she met him. His eyes finally settled on Lupin, who was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly Alex thought he would rip them right off.

"Remus," Sirius breathed shakily. "I never thought I'd see you again."

So they _did_ know each other. Alex watched with baited breath as Lupin jumped to his feet. Instead of tackling Sirius, or taking a swing at him, Lupin enveloped him in a large, warm hug. Alex hastily averted her gaze to provide them some semblance of privacy – an effort she realised was futile when she noticed all the nosy portraits peering at the scene with interest. She shot an especially affronted glare at the portrait of her grandfather, Headmaster Dexter Fortescue.

"I'm so sorry, Sirius," gasped Lupin as he took half a step back. "I should've known – should've fought for your case…"

Sirius shook his head, anguish twisting his features. "He fooled us both. But it's all right now; I have him with me."

It wasn't until Sirius extracted the container that Alex noticed she had been holding her breath. She reminded herself to breathe as Sirius passed the container to Remus, who handed it to Dumbledore. The ancient wizard reapplied the stunner and the animagus-proof spells without batting an eye as he accepted it.

"This calls for veritaserum," murmured Dumbledore, his eyes never leaving the box in his hands.

"I have some," offered Alex. She was still in her day robes, which meant her pockets contained her everyday necessities: money, pads, her compact, and a variety of potions.

The latter came in a small chest not unlike a jewellery box. She dug it out from her magically enhanced pockets and popped open the case. Her eyes skimmed over the thicker bottles and landed on a slim one filled with a clear liquid reminiscent of water. _There._

Alex presented it to them with a triumphant smile. It slowly slid off her face when she registered the surprise on Lupin's features and the suspicion tinging Dumbledore's.

"Professor Snape never told me how skilled a brewer you are," mused Dumbledore even as he accepted the potion.

He was fishing for information, that much was obvious. In fact, Alex was mediocre at best when it came to brewing potions—the instructions were so vague, and there were countless ways of interpreting them—but she didn't want to inform them that Sirius had been the one to make them, so she offered a demur smile in response. Judging by Sirius's snort of amusement, she wasn't fooling anyone.

Oh well. They had more important things to worry about.

The adults in the room drew up the runes and wards necessary to prevent Pettigrew from escaping in either human or animal form in preparation for the interrogation. Alex probably should've been keeping a close eye on things for future reference, but it was late, and she was tired, and a tray of hot cocoa had just arrived on Dumbledore's desk. She reached for the one with no marshmallows in it and relished the warmth it provided. Alex blew on its surface to cool it down before taking a tentative sip. Her concerns were unfounded, however, as even the tiniest taste of chocolate seemed to melt away all the tension in her body.

Chocolate truly was the greatest remedy of them all. She wanted to hand one of the mugs to Sirius, who was undoubtedly still feeling the effects of the dementor attack, but he was too invested in the interrogation that was about to take place.

Pettigrew was seated on a transfigured stool in the middle of a circle of runes Dumbledore had drawn up himself. Judging by the glow it was emitting, it hadn't been constructed through ordinary means. Alex barely had time to appreciate the flawless inscriptions before Dumbledore poured a single drop of the veritaserum into Pettigrew's open mouth. He replaced the stopper on the vial and placed it behind him on his desk, out of her reach, and pointed his—frankly creepy-looking—wand at Pettigrew.

" _Rennervate."_

Groaning, Pettigrew began to stir. He instinctively licked his dry, cracked lips, swallowing the meagre serving of the potion in the process. Dumbledore waited for Pettigrew to take stock of his situation before beginning his interrogation, putting a stop to his impending freak-out immediately.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Pettigrew's eyes darted around the room, taking in each of their faces as he answered, "P-Peter Pettigrew."

"What have you been doing these past twelve years?"

"Hiding," he squeaked. "I disguised myself as a common rat, a pet."

"Who—or what—were you hiding from?"

"Everyone," confessed Pettigrew. He was openly sweating now. "From Sirius, from the Dark Lord and his followers, from the Order."

"And why is that?"

"Because I revealed the location of the Potters' hideout to the Dark Lord!"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Remus, followed by a snarl from Sirius. "Because _you_ were the Secret-Keeper, weren't you, Wormtail?" demanded Sirius. He looked about a second away from tackling the traitor to the floor.

Pettigrew looked as though he wanted to stop talking, but the Truth Potion compelled him to spill what he believed to be the truth. "I was. It was initially Sirius, but to defer suspicion, it was decided that I was a subtler alternative. I'd been passing information to the Dark Lord for a year and figured this was the decisive move that would end the war once and for all," he said, almost in one breath.

Well, he was definitely right about that – just not in the way he'd been hoping. Sirius was trembling, now, as though he wanted to wrap his hands around Pettigrew's throat and strangle the life out of him himself.

Remus, on the other stand, was as still as a statue. "You were the spy," he realised with a small gasp. The lines in his face deepened with consternation. "All this time, people were suspecting me, or Sirius, but it was you."

Pettigrew nodded, whimpering.

"The potion's wearing off," declared Dumbledore. He made no move to Stun him again, perhaps concerned that an excessive application of the spell would do more harm than good. "I'll take contact Cornelius immediately. Remus, if you could escort Sirius and Alexandra to the infirmary?"

"I'm fine," she and Sirius said simultaneously. Alex grimaced when she took in Sirius's dishevelled state. Was that what she looked like too?

"I've fared worse," Sirius continued, glancing at nothing and no one in particular. "Azkaban is great for developing dementor immunity."

Alex had to bite her lip from smiling at the awful joke. Sirius noticed, and seemed to unwind slightly knowing he had completed his objective.

"I'll go," she volunteered, rising. She wasn't really in the mood to meet the Minister — now or ever. "I'll nap in the Gryffindor common room."

Dumbledore didn't even bother questioning that. Emboldened, Alex asked him for a favour.

"I need to return to the Leaky Cauldron by nine," she informed him. Her watch told her it was a quarter to two, which meant she had roughly seven hours to catch some z's.

The headmaster nodded. "I'll arrange a portkey for you."

She smiled politely. "Thank you."

Sleep evaded her that night.


	24. When One Door Closes

**A/N:** I received several interesting reviews following last chapter. Thank you all for your feedback, and please let me know what parts you liked/disliked in order to maximise the enjoyability of this story.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

 _When One Door Closes_

Alex wiped the gunk out of her eyes as she trudged towards Dumbledore's office. It was half-past eight now, and she was dreading having to wake at this time every weekday from now on until Christmas rolled around.

"Did you sleep well?" Dumbledore asked leisurely. He was almost swamped beneath mounds of paperwork undoubtedly related to last night's incident.

Alex nodded absently, her gums still smarting from the dental hygiene spell she had applied soon after waking. It was easier than transfiguring a toothbrush, but much more irritating.

"Is everything all right now?" she asked, a tad wary.

Dumbledore sighed at the loaded question. "I doubt things will be all right for a long time," he admitted wearily. "But the first steps have been taken at the very least."

The ancient wizard returned his quill to its inkpot and rested his elbows on the desk with his fingers linked together. "The Minister was not very receptive to the revelations discovered last night," he began. "I predicted as much and instructed Sirius to wait in my quarters until Cornelius fully understood the situation."

If the Minister was everything Alex believed him to be, then the need for discretion made sense. He seemed like the type to spell first and ask questions later.

"He couldn't deny the evidence, however, especially once we interrogated Pettigrew once more. He'll undergo a private trial today. After the magistrate determines he is guilty, Sirius will be officially and legally exonerated. For now, however, he will remain in the castle for his own safety."

Yeah, because that worked out so well with the philosopher's stone. Alex grimaced, but she couldn't think of a better alternative.

* * *

She made it back to the Leaky Cauldron with only minimal nausea. Gagging slightly, Alex tucked Dumbledore's quill behind her ear. The magic used to turn it into a portkey had worn off, sure, but an ordinary quill still had its uses.

Though not as busy as it had been yesterday, Diagon Alley remained decently populated. They were probably last-minute stragglers hastily shopping for school supplies, judging by how frantic they appeared.

The ice cream parlour was empty, of course. Technically they didn't even open for another hour, but her dad always began work at nine on the dot to get things prepped. One day she would learn what, exactly, that meant, but for now she was content to stay in bed until eleven (most days, anyway).

Alex tapped on the door, alerting her dad of her presence. The beginnings of a smile on her face faded away once she noticed the distraught expression on his face.

"I have some bad news," he told her, and Alex's gut lurched. "Lucky's gone. We think he's run away."

Alex carefully shifted her expression into one of shock. "Maybe he returned to his original family."

Her dad nodded dejectedly. Alex squeezed his shoulder briefly in consolation.

"It's okay," he sighed, grabbing her trunk from its place by the wall. "It's better this way; now that you and Spitfire are returning to school, no one would keep him company anyway."

 _Speaking of which_ …Alex unlatched the carrier holding her pet and gave Spitfire a hug. His tail slapped her face, but his verbose purring told her he was enjoying the attention.

"I missed you too," she replied, kissing him on his fuzzy head.

Her dad wrapped them both in a hug. "Have a great term. We'll see you at Christmas."

Alex used her unoccupied arm to return the hug. "Sure thing. Don't adopt too many dogs while I'm gone."

Her dad chuckled but was definitely seeming contemplative. Alex shot him a narrow-eyed glance.

"You look more and more like your mum with each passing day," he said fondly.

Alex answered his warm smile with a bemused one of her own. "Laters, Dad," she said, picking up her trunk – which he had lightened, thankfully. She then hurried to the Leaky Cauldron, the note she had scribbled last night at the forefront of her mind.

Spitfire meowed in protest as she raced up the stairs. In a way, she was too late. Mrs Weasley was knocking on her door, a concerned frown on her face. "Alexandra, dear, are you all right?" she asked.

"Yep," called Alex from the other end of the hall. She lifted her trunk somewhat. "Just went to grab my things from Dad."

Mrs Weasley's face cleared with understanding. "I take it you're ready for breakfast, then?"

"More than ready," she assured her. "Let me just grab something from my room and I'll be right on down."

"Take your time, dear."

Alex returned her amicable smile as she approached her room. As soon as Mrs Weasley descended the stairs, Alex dropped her trunk and used her free hand to throw open the door. She released Spitfire from her hold and dived onto the bed to reach the dresser upon which the note was sitting. A simple Vanishing Charm took care of that, and there was finally a moment in which she allowed herself a breather.

Her tired body sagged against the soft bed. _Hopefully the rest of the year won't be this exciting_. She knocked on wood just in case.

"Are you _still_ sleeping?" Ginny asked, amused.

Alex didn't even bother lifting her head up. "Ever heard of knocking, Weasley?"

"I'll knock you in a sec," Ginny grumbled.

She finally sat up, and they shared an amused smirk. "Your mum send me up here? She told me to take my time, though."

"She always says that," confessed Ginny, rolling her eyes, "but never means it. But no, she didn't ask me to come here — Ron did. Scabbers is gone."

"Oh no."

Ginny's flat look was tinged with amusement. "You've gotta act better than that when Ron eventually confronts you. He'll probably blame the suspicious arrival of your cat, too," she added, kneeling down to let Spitfire sniff her hand.

"Spitfire only eats wagyu beef."

"I saw you feed him some broccoli before."

Alex clicked her tongue in mock irritation.

True to Ginny's words, as soon as they reached the dining parlour, Ron began his interrogation.

He leapt up from his seat, almost knocking the goblet from Harry's hand in the process. "You!" he hollered, pointing rather dramatically at the black cat in Alex's arms.

Spitfire yowed at him.

"He says hi," translated Alex as she took the seat by the end of the table. Percy politely moved his elbow out of the way for her.

Mrs Weasley frowned at Spitfire. "Are you sure you need to bring him down here, Alexandra?"

"He has separation anxiety."

Harry's flat stare informed her that he was completely aware of her bullshit.

"Crookshanks is still sleeping," Hermione felt the need to point out. "He wound up outside my room halfway through the night."

"He couldn't stand Alex's smell for long, hm?" the twin beside Mr Weasley asked innocently.

"Don't be crude, Fred," said the one Alex now knew was Fred. "It was obviously her snores that drove him out."

"I don't snore _that_ loudly," she protested, huffing.

"Must be the flatulence, then."

"Boys!" snapped Mrs Weasley. "Enough!"

The twins snickered; Alex couldn't help but snort.

"Um, you all seem to be forgetting something," interjected Ron as breakfast began to arrive. He didn't even glance at the omelette set in front of him. "Scabbers is gone! Eaten, probably!"

"There, there, son," soothed Mr Weasley as he dug into his sausages. "We'll get you a new pet."

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat pointedly.

"We _may_ get you a new pet."

"How do you know a cat ate him?" posited Hermione. "It could've easily been an owl."

Ron directed his laser-eye glare at Harry.

"If Hedwig didn't want Scabbers before, she wouldn't be interested in him now," reasoned Harry. He seemed to be the only one to genuinely sympathise with Ron's current plight.

 _Best friends for life,_ mused Alex as she poured herself a cup of tea.

Spitfire mewed from his position on her lap. Alex dropped him a bit of scrambled egg, ignoring Ginny's suspicious glance as she did so. Ron glared at her from across the table.

Well, she'd rather he remain cross with her for the rest of their lives than have him discover the truth behind Scabbers' disappearance.

After breakfast, they collected their belongings from their rooms and brought them down to the muggle-facing side of the Leaky Cauldron. Two old-fashioned green cars were parked across the road, each driven by wizards in similarly coloured velvet suits.

Alex was both impressed and repulsed by the tackiness of it all. She was sorely tempted to hop on another Knight Bus instead.

"Quit dawdling," grumbled Ron as he brushed past her.

Alex arched an eyebrow at his back, thoroughly unimpressed. Harry, upon catching her expression, shrugged apologetically for his best friend's trashy behaviour. Huffing, Alex handed her trunk to Mr Weasley and hopped into the car that was Ron-less.

The inside of the car was conspicuously wider than it appeared from outside. It easily fit herself, Hermione and the twins in the back as well as Mr Weasley and the driver in the front.

"Bit sus," she noted wryly.

Hermione pulled a thoughtful expression. "I wonder what this looks like to others," she mused.

"Are muggle cars not this spacious?" queried Mr Weasley with a frown.

"Not these kinds, no."

Mr Weasley hummed in response. He seemed a second away from pulling out a notepad and writing that little tidbit now.

Hermione let out a small squeak as they drove past a cop car. "What if we get pulled over?" she gasped, eyes widening with distress. "We might never get to Hogwarts at this rate."

Alex tried not to let her amusement show. "We're fine, Hermione. They didn't even glance our way. Besides, even if we're pulled over, a simple Confundus would do the trick."

"But that's illegal," she protested, straightening slightly. "Not to mention highly immoral."

For a lack of a better response, Alex merely lifted her shoulders in a brief shrug. Hermione's nostrils flared; a mix of frustration and disappointment evidently came over her. There was something she wanted to say—a million things, to be sure—but apparently Hermione decided it wasn't worth the effort. Frowning sharply, she glanced away.

Great. Not only had she pissed off Ron, now Hermione was upset with her. Which of Harry's best friends was she going after next?

She should apologise. Alex knew this with unwavering certainty. But she was tired, and besides, their current setting wasn't exactly conducive for a sincere admission of guilt.

Sighing, Alex pressed her forehead against the window and watched London stream past her.

* * *

Alex left the others as soon as she stepped onto the Express. Either she was extra wily, or the others didn't bother chasing after her, because she managed to get away uninterrupted. The Ministry drivers hadn't gotten them to King's Cross as fast as she had expected despite the Repelling Charms that chased the other vehicles away from them; almost all the compartments were taken.

Fortunately, she spotted a familiar face soon enough.

"Hey," she greeted Grant. "What's up? Where's Duncan?"

"We're not always together, y'know," he drawled even as he helped her with her trunk.

She waited patiently for an answer.

Grant relented with a roll of his eyes. "Bathroom."

"How was your summer?" she asked, taking a seat across from him. "I didn't see or hear from you. Like, at all."

Grant stared pensively out the window. "I was busy," he said, eyeing the flat plains of England. "Family stuff."

That could mean a myriad of things. Sensing that topic of conversation was off-limits, Alex preoccupied herself by playing with Spitfire's pointy little ears.

The tension dissipated noticeably when Duncan stumbled in, a faint wince wrinkling his skin as he rubbed his belly. "That the last time I add marshmallows to my BLT," he moaned.

Alex's stomach turned at the mere thought of that travesty.

"I weep for your future family," Grant said flatly.

"But you're right here?" Duncan smiled benignly.

"Cute," quipped Alex, grinning.

"Please," scoffed Grant. "Love's a sham."

Alex leaned into her seat, taken aback. She exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Duncan.

 _Well,_ she thought as a gloomy silence descended on their compartment, _at least now I know what family problems he's having._

As they crossed the imaginary line separating England from Scotland, dark clouds began to choke the sky. Rain fell in sheets with little warning, and Alex wondered if the driver was able to see through it all.

They must've, for the train reached Hogsmeade station with little fuss. Night had fallen by then, and Alex fought the urge to flinch every time someone's robes swished in the dark. A quick scan of the sky assured her there were no dementors present – a fact that grew more apparent the longer they remained unbothered.

"Are you looking for nargles?" wondered Luna as she followed them into their thestral-pulled carriage. "If so, they're clustered around that girl right now."

Alex spared a moment to sneak a peek at the direction Luna was indicating. Funnily enough, Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy came up in her line of sight.

"Makes sense," she snarked.

"Luna Fortuna," greeted Duncan, grinning. "How was Belgium?"

Alex wasn't sure what surprised her more: Luna's vacation, or the fact that Duncan knew of it. A glance at Grant's unperturbed expression informed her that he was in the loop as well. Feeling oddly disconcerted, Alex only partially listened to her Ravenclaw mates swap summer tales.

"What about you, Alex?" asked Luna as she formed another braid from her dry blonde locks. "Did you do anything revolutionary?"

She smiled. "I got a dog. He's gone now, though."

"Felt like a snack, did you?" asked Grant, smirking.

The whole world seemed to crumble away. The only thing Alex could hear was the deafening thuds of her heartbeat. She stared at her redheaded friend.

"What did you say?" she asked, her voice quiet with shock.

To his credit, Grant instantly appeared uncomfortable. "Never mind," he muttered, refusing to meet her gaze.

Alex pressed a hand against her temple. Was it too late to turn this cart around? The Express hadn't left yet, had it?

Duncan glanced between them, evidently confused. As someone who had been raised in the magical community his entire life, the only semblance of racism he understood was limited to that of blood purity. Alex wished other dark-skinned people had that luxury.

Luna seemed completely uninvolved – she was humming a nursery rhyme that involved a merperson and a narwhal. No doubt she had gotten distracted at some point in their conversation.

The rest of the ride was silent, each person absorbed in their own thoughts. It wasn't until they came to a stop that Grant reached out to her – literally. Alex hesitated a brief second before accepting his hand as she stepped down from the carriage.

They moved out of the way for the next group.

"I'm sorry," Grant mumbled, eyes downcast. "It was a shitty joke. I thought…" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"You thought I'd be okay with you saying something like that?" Alex finished off for him. Her brow was knit with scepticism.

"Look," he began, scowling at the ground, "things have been rough for me recently, okay? The stress is getting to me, so I took it out on you like an idiot."

"And?" she asked when it became clear he was done. "Are you saying you let off steam through casual racism? What if, say, I go through a near-death experience and then cope with the trauma by making fun of your muggleborn status? Would _that_ be considered okay?"

"Piss off," he scoffed. "That analogy is so messed up, I don't even know where to begin."

"Your words, not mine," said Alex, raising her hands in mock-surrender.

Grant roughened his hair by running his hands through it in frustration. "You're so- You of all people should know better than to even pretend to make this about blood status."

"There's nothing wrong with being honest," said a third party. Katherine had walked over towards them from her carriage; Bhagat and Agatha were hot on her heels.

"You lot don't even know what we're talking about," spat Grant, his glare fierce.

"We don't have to," claimed Bhagat with a sneer. "All we need to know is that some lowly muggleborn is making a fool out of himself right in front of the castle."

"Not to mention dragging one of our own down with you," concluded Agatha as she came to stand beside Alex.

Grant's expression had darkened considerably by the time they were done. He glanced at them evenly and, without another, flipped them the bird before turning around and ascending the stairs of the castle.

Alex felt her heart turn to stone as she watched him go.

That wasn't the only thing bugging her. She looked to Bhagat.

"Why muggleborn?" she asked. "Isn't there another word starting with M you people favour?"

Bhagat sniffed at the accusation. "I'm not so crass to use language like that in public; I was raised better than that."

The sheer irony of his words made Alex smirk humourlessly. Even worse, he was completely unaware of it.

 _I'm so tired._

"Come on, Fortescue," invited Agatha as her friends began heading into the entrance hall. "Sit with us tonight." Of the three of them, she seemed to be the only one with a shred of compassion in her.

She was still a blood purist, though.

"No, thank you. I'm skipping dinner tonight." Not wishing to see Agatha's reaction to her rejection, Alex branched away from her and towards the direction of the dungeons.

At the last second, she went up instead of down the stairs. The Room of Requirement seemed more appealing at the present moment; she was at least promised solitude there.

When she reached the corridor of the seventh floor, she greeted Barnaby the Barmy, the figure on the tapestry positioned right across the room. He was still futilely attempting to train a troupe of trolls for the ballet.

"Anyone in there, Barnaby?" she asked as she began pacing in front of the room.

Barnaby managed a shake of his head before one of the trolls fell on him.

After her third round of pacing, the entrance materialised. Alex opened the door and was greeted by her bedroom. Relieved, she jumped onto her bed and laid there for a good while.

She wanted to cry or scream—something to release her frustrations—but all she could manage was a groan. The dementors had robbed her of more than just her sense of security, it seemed.

That topic wasn't one she wished to deliberate on, so Alex directed her focus towards meditation instead. Her eyes fell shut as she measured her breathing: in for two seconds, out for three.

It had become a common practice for her over the summer, suggested by Sirius after he had noted her explosive bouts of accidental magic. He had been surprised and a little bemused by her latent... _abilities —_ and he used this word extremely loosely.

Frankly, it was embarrassing for someone her age to have such poor control over her magic. She wasn't a toddler, for Merlin's sake. While using a wand helped reign it in a little, it also meant she would never be able to use wandless magic.

When she conferred her concerns to Sirius, he had advised not to lose hope. Whenever she was feeling particularly emotive, he recommended she meditate to cool off.

"My father used to say magic was a harmonic union of your brain, heart and soul," he told her one sunny afternoon. "Otherwise known as knowledge, intent, and passion."

Alex had frowned, then, just as she did now upon recalling the lecture. Weren't the last two basically the same thing?

Eventually, she was forced out of her peaceful state by the relentless growls of her empty stomach. Alex rolled out of bed, straightened her robes, and made her way down to the kitchen.

She wasn't the only wand-waver there, though. Her brain almost short-circuited when she spotted Sirius at the empty tables.

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

 _Shouldn't that be my line?_ Alex rubbed her eyes. Nope, he was still there.

"I go to school here," she replied, moving to sit across from him.

"Really?" he said, his flat voice tinged with amusement. "I could've sworn you were a Durmstrang student."

"I hear the uniforms are a crime against fashion."

"The sole reason my family was enrolled in Hogwarts instead," he claimed. "Well, that and centuries of tradition."

Alex snorted before greeting the house-elf who had rushed to her side. "I'll have whatever's leftover."

"Yes'm," chirped the elf, already hurrying off.

"Serious— Actually, though," said Alex, turning back to a grinning Sirius. "Why are you here instead of…well, anywhere?"

Sirius dipped a morsel of bread into his soup. "Would you believe me if I said I was here for nostalgia's sake?"

"Yes," she admitted. It was a reasonable excuse; the last time she suspected Sirius had been truly happy was during his schooldays.

He smiled, but it failed to reach his eyes. "Let's just say it's best for everyone if I'm not on my own for a good while."

The implications of his statement left Alex reeling. Just how much baggage had Sirius been burdened with after his twelve-year imprisonment?

"Your dinner, miss," announced the house-elf from earlier.

"Thank you." What began as a grateful expression ended with bemusement as the house-elf continued to unload more and more plates onto the table. Alex smiled as the house-elf skipped away, silently wondering if the food was all for her, or if they noticed how frightfully skinny Sirius was.

He was slowly but surely putting on weight. In a few months' time he'd probably even look his age again.

"So why aren't you in the Great Hall?" he prodded as he finished his soup. He dutifully moved onto the steak Alex slid in front of him.

Alex sighed into her goblet. "Can't be bothered," she admitted. All that noise and drama... Yeah, the kitchens were definitely a better alternative, busy as it was.

Was it fair for her to disparage it that way when she was at the crux of it all?

"On the bright side," interjected Sirius before her thoughts could spiral out of control, "I'll be publicly exonerated tomorrow morning."

Alex tilted her head to the side in contemplation. "Tomorrow morning…you mean when the owls deliver the papers?"

Sirius nodded. "The Prophet wanted an interview with me, but my attorney advised otherwise. She said to wait a few days for maximum impact."

"Like how none of the trailers showed the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park," noted Alex. The film had been released over the summer, and she had dragged her parents, Sirius and Harry to see it — separately, of course.

"Exactly," said Sirius, already moving onto dessert.

The house-elves had just cleared away their dishes when the door swung open. Rather than raising suspicion by using his animagus abilities, Sirius merely turned his back to the door. His appearance differed enough from his mugshot, so she supposed it was worth a shot.

It was just Lupin, though. He seemed surprised to see her, but not overtly so.

"What happened to not being spotted?" he asked Sirius, eyebrows raised. "This is exactly why you should've stayed in my office."

"What?" protested Sirius, whirling around to face his friend. "It's just Alex."

"Oi," she groused.

He grinned. "Did you see him?" he asked Lupin, his excitement visible. "How was he?"

Lupin's expression softened with fondness. "Just like James."

Oh. They were talking about Harry. Embarrassed, Alex remained exceptionally still so she wouldn't intrude on what was clearly an intimate moment.

She had to know, though. "Are you gonna introduce yourself to him?" she asked of Sirius. He needed Harry as much as Harry needed Sirius.

Lupin stared at Sirius. "You told her?"

Ah, right. He and Dumbledore were under the impression that she and Sirius had encountered each other sporadically upon seizing Pettigrew – who was most likely dead, now that she stopped to think about it.

Sirius nodded in answer to both their questions. "Dumbledore recommends we do so after the article is released."

"Good luck," Alex told him sincerely. She kinda wished she would be there, just to help mediate things. Then again, her presence would probably raise more questions than answer them.

"Thank you," Lupin replied wearily. "We'll need it."


	25. Blurry Lines

Chapter Twenty-Five

 _Blurry Lines_

Depending on who you asked, Gryffindors were either brave or foolhardy. They didn't think things through, instead relying on their heart rather than their brain. One the other side of the spectrum, Slytherins were the direct opposites: they were pragmatic and sly, weighing the pros and cons of situations before jumping in and dealing with them.

Alex, though? She was a coward through and through.

Her first day of term was all kinds of awkward. She had basically ruined her friendship with Grant, offended Hermione, and worst of all, her roommates wanted to cosy up to her. Alex wasn't particularly interested in insulting her Housemates by sitting with the Hufflepuffs, so she decided to arrive at the Great Hall whilst fashionably late.

She timed it so that, upon her entrance, the post had already been delivered but the timetables had not. Her calculations were correct; the Great Hall was an explosion of noise when she stepped foot inside.

"This is nuts!" she overheard from the Ravenclaw table en route to the other Slytherins. "The whole justice system's gotta be reformed now!"

She hoped so. The government really shouldn't be enlisting dementors' help in any shape or form.

Alex forced herself to steady her breathing. It was morning, still bright and early, and she was surrounded by people. The dementors had been called off after that night, and if nothing went wrong, she'd never have to face them again.

A first-year glanced up from their copy of the Prophet to shoot Alex a look as she sat beside him. Honestly, he would've done the same in his position; it was weirdfor a fourth-year to associate with someone so much younger than them.

"What's with the face, Fortescue?" called Draco Malfoy from further down the table. He seemed as interested in this morning's breaking news as he did in being a decent human being. "You look like you've seen a corpse."

"More like her reflection," quipped Pansy, snickering.

Alex turned to face them, confusion knitting her brow. She knew she and Malfoy had their beef, but this seemed unprovoked. Alex wracked her brain for anything she could've done to him between this morning and last night.

Nope. She was drawing a blank.

Shrugging it off, Alex poured herself a cup of tea. As she blew on it, she darted a glance at the teachers' table. Dumbledore was there at its centre, occupied with his lone boiled egg than the newspapers crowding the rest of the table.

To his right, Professor McGonagall was avidly pouring over her copy of the Daily Prophet. She occasionally pressed her fingers to her lips, a shocked expression imprinted on her features.

Beside her, Snape was basically burning a hole into his paper with his glare alone. His only reprieve was when he turned to direct his glare at Lupin, who was on Dumbledore's left.

Lupin was too busy consoling a Hagrid to even pick up the paper. Unlike Filch, Hagrid opted to join the rest of the staff in dining at the head table of the Great Hall. Also unlike Filch, he had enough tears to fill a small lake.

"Ugh," scoffed the kid next to her. "That blubbering oaf is a professor? What a dump this place is."

Alex smiled down at him. "The exit is over there," she said helpfully.

Eyes wide, the first year hid his steadily reddening face behind his newspaper.

 _Cute,_ mused Alex as she buttered her toast. _I hope he doesn't become a Death Eater._

It wasn't until she attended her first class of the day did Alex register the boy's words. He had called Hagrid a professor, and she had presumed it was a misjudgement on his part. But then she traipsed down to the pumpkin patch by Hagrid's home and saw the error of her ways.

She felt her spirits lift. _Hagrid_ was their Care of Magical Creatures professor. Kettleburn must've retired—he had so few fingers left—and had left Hogwarts' resident magizoologist in charge of his legacy.

Alex wanted to celebrate the good news with someone – but she had no friends in this class. Aside from her, the only other Slytherins who were enrolled in CoMC were Katherine, Jacob Blishwick and Zubair Shafiq. The rest of the class was composed of Gryffindors; she barely knew their faces, let alone their names.

Well, she wasn't _totally_ friendless. Professors counted, right?

"Good mornin', class," greeted Hagrid as stepped out of his pumpkin patch. His eyes and nose were notably red, and there was a slight hitch to his watery voice. "We were gonna do somethin' a little more excitin' today, but what with the news this mornin'…" He sniffled.

"Absolute tosh is what it is," grumbled Jacob. "Bloody Ministry can't do anything right."

Zubair smirked. "Your parents work for the Ministry," he reminded him.

"Exactly."

Hagrid gestured for them to approach the table he had set up by his cabin. Atop it was a box that rustled occasionally. Before they could peer into it, he asked, "Does anyone know what a puffskein is?"

"Sounds dirty," muttered the Gryffindor girl behind Alex.

Her friend raised a hand. "It's a fluffy, spherical creature that likes to be cuddled."

"And thrown around," added a Gryffindor boy. He had a slimy smile tacked onto his affected expression.

"They don' dislike either of those things," acknowledged Hagrid, "but they aren't particularly fond of it. Anythin' else?" He peered at Slytherin side of the class.

Alex raised a hand halfway. "Is it true they, uh, eat people's bogeys?"

Katherine made a noise of disgust.

Hagrid's onyx eyes sparkled. "Did the reading, did yeh? And yes, they eat bogeys in addition ter gnomes an' spiders — which is what makes them popular pets. Five points each ter Gryffindor an' Slytherin."

Alex managed a small smile for Hagrid. At this point, did anyone outside of Gryffindor even care about the House Cup? Everyone knew they were going to win it regardless.

Jacob was voicing similar sentiments as Hagrid gestured for them to approach the box of puffskeins.

"Don't be such a defeatist," chided Zubair. "You never know — there might be another villain threatening the school, and then Fortescue will snag us some points in the meanwhile."

"Ah," murmured Jacob, and even though her back was to them, Alex just knew three pairs of eyes had darted towards her. "Slytherin's own hero of Hogwarts."

"We could always plot to destroy the school ourselves?" Katherine suggested lightly.

"Nah," dismissed Zubair. "Too much effort."

Alex rolled her eyes at the exchange as she made her way to the puffskeins. They were huddled together for warmth like living, breathing, dozing cotton balls.

"Line up and I'll give yeh one each," instructed Hagrid. "Then work in groups of four an' take down observational notes."

There was a bit of confusion as the horde of fourth years around the table struggled to sort themselves out into a single file line. More than one person bumped into each other, and someone yelped as their shoe was stepped on.

Alex felt a hand deliberately settle on her waist. "Excuse me," breathed the Gryffindor boy who had answered Hagrid earlier. He used his hand to lightly push her out of his way so he could extract himself from the crowd.

 _Gross._ Alex seethed internally, her own hand hovering over her waist.

The only form of physical contact she enjoyed was a brief hug, and that opportunity was limited to a select few. Accidental grazes were forgettable, but for someone to purposely touch her like that? It left her stomach churning.

And yet what could she to do? Kick up a fuss over what could be passed off as an innocent collision? Besides, she wasn't going to ruin Hagrid's first lesson, especially not when he was already emotionally wrung out.

So Alex swallowed back her disgust and positioned herself at the end of the queue where no one could pull a fast one over her. On the bright side, she now had time to chat with Hagrid.

"Congrats, professor," she said, smiling.

Hagrid smiled bashfully. "Thank yeh, Alex," he chuckled, handing her a puffskein. It was so _soft_. "Watch out for yer bogeys."

Alex covered her nose, grimacing as her puffskein poked out its tongue. According to the textbook they had been assigned, a puffskein's tongue was so long it could wrap itself with it twice over.

"You said you had something else planned today?" she recalled, stroking the puffskein. "What was it?"

Hagrid cleared his throat. "Later," he assured her. "Yer group is waitin'."

Group? Alex turned. Oh, her Housemates. She supposed, as the only Slytherins in the class, they were automatically groupmates. They had never encountered this predicament before, as Kettleburn preferred individual work over collaboration.

Her Housemates fell silent in a way that signalled they had been talking about her prior to her approach. Alex shrugged it off and sat down, closing off their circle. Her puffskein hopped onto the grass to play with its friends as she withdrew her self-inking quill and notebook.

"Buttering up the new professor? Smart," commented Zubair. He turned to his mate. "Think I can get away with it?"

"Yeah, as long you're mates with Potter," Jacob replied without looking up from the puffskeins.

"Is that my identifier?" she asked wryly.

"What would you rather it be?" inquired Katherine.

"The ice cream man's daughter."

That was enough distract Jacob from his work. "You're a strange one, Fortescue," he told her over Zubair's snickers.

For some reason, it felt like a compliment.

* * *

After Care of Magical Creatures was Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws. Alex kept pace with Katherine and the others on the way, and she slowly found herself relaxing around them. Her guard returned full-force, though, when they entered the classroom.

Duncan and Grant were seated in the row of the left column, as usual. The desks could comfortably fit two people, three if everyone sacrificed their elbow room. The past three years, they had contentedly given up their ease of access in favour of ensuring none of them felt left out. Today was a different story.

Alex didn't have time to dwell on that; she was preoccupied with keeping up with her Housemates. How things could change so drastically in the span of a few hours. After spending some time actually getting to know her Housemates, Alex had to admit she was doing them an injustice by labelling them all as Death Eaters and calling it a day — after all, she was only half right.

Jacob was a half-blood, and while that didn't mean anything concrete, his behaviour over the years suggested he wasn't a bigot. Zubair, although a pureblood, also seemed like a grounded, down-to-earth person.

They were seated in front of Bhagat and Parkinson, who commanded the back table on the right of the room while the twins sat all the way at the front. Those four were definitely upholders of pureblood supremacy, though Alex wasn't sure how deeply entrenched they were. Was their bigotry a product of indoctrination due to their parents, or did they genuinely believe muggles and their ilk were scum? Perhaps it was both.

The back table on the left was mostly free, save for the seat staked out by Agatha. She…was more difficult to decipher. Honestly, whenever Alex so much as glanced at her, all she could think about was their messy acquaintance on that first train ride to Hogwarts several years ago. And yet, Agatha didn't display any antagonistic qualities. The fickle girl could barely work on animals for Transfiguration, not to mention how queasy she got whenever they had to use animal parts for Potions. She never seemed to snub non-purebloods, even if her undue pride in her blood status was an inherent indicator of her supremacy. For now, Alex was just going to have to wait and see.

Agatha waved Katherine over, who eyed Alex inquisitively. She answered her most favourable roommate's silent question by following her lead.

Agatha nodded at them in greeting. "How was Magical Creatures?" she asked Katherine, who was seated between them.

"Awfully cute. Puffskeins," she clarified.

Agatha's nose scrunched up in distaste. "The bogey-eaters?"

"The one and the same."

Katherine was funny in a subversive sort of way. The manner in which she spoke actually reminded Alex of how cider tasted, sharp and crisp and refreshing. Katherine was kind, though, if distantly so. Of all the Slytherin fourth-years, she seemed the most snobbish; she held herself upright, never deigning to meet anyone's gaze as she glided past them. But her smiles were sweet, and if you watched carefully, you could see the way her black eyes sparkled like gems whenever she spoke. Alex just hoped she was a good person as well.

Professor McGonagall strode past the open doors and magicked it closed with a wave of her hand. "Apologies for my tardiness," she said crisply, headed straight for her desk. "More than one first year has found themselves adrift this morning. To ensure things go smoothly for everyone, I implore you to assist any disoriented students you may encounter."

Alex rolled her eyes as she dug out her materials. They really needed to make information pamphlets for this place.

As Professor McGonagall began attending to the chalkboard, Duncan swivelled in his seat. His eyes scanned the room before spotting her, then whom she was sitting next to. His lips formed an 'o' of surprise, which he then wrestled into a smile. As she smiled back at him, some of the rigidity in her shoulders dissipated.

"Last year we focused on turning inanimate objects into animals and vice versa."

Alex winced at the reminder. She had created some truly abominable mutations in her third year. Weirdly enough, the Draconifors Spell was the one that came to her most easily.

"This year's curriculum will follow that vein, although more precisely," declared Professor McGonagall, her watchful eyes examining the classroom. "But first: the theory. Open up your textbooks to chapter one."

Most of the lesson was spent on breaking down the early chapters of the textbook. They read a paragraph each, with Professor McGonagall occasionally interjecting with a sprinkle of information. She rounded off the class with a demonstrative spell wherein she transformed her desk into what she claimed was a _Chimaera_ – the Greek one, with the capital 'c' and everything.

She smiled primly at them as the creature reverted to its original form as a statuette. "I expect you all to achieve this level of ability by the end of the year."

Translation: that was in their final exam.

Alex buried her head in her hands. She couldn't wait to drop this subject.

The bell could not have rung any sooner. Most of the class hastened to the Great Hall for lunch, but Professor McGonagall stopped her. "A word, Miss Fortescue?" she said before Alex could take even a step towards the door.

A thousand thoughts swam through her mind in the five seconds it took for her to approach the professor's desk. She wasn't going to be recommended additional tutelage, was she? The thought of having to do more Transfiguration work was pure nightmare material.

Professor McGonagall peered at her over the top of her glasses. "I hear you had an interesting night yesterday."

 _Wow. Never thought I'd hear that from her._ Alex tamped down on her wayward musings as she struggled to keep her face straight. "Yes," she admitted, reluctantly recalling the events that had transpired yesterday. "I suppose I did."

Professor McGonagall's expression turned wry for a split second. "Madam Pomfrey didn't see to you afterwards, did she? Did anyone?"

"I received some chocolate?" She shrugged helplessly at the affronted demeanour the professor adopted. "I went to bed right afterwards."

Professor McGonagall sighed softly. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, frowning. "I know a thing or two about dementors, and no one your age should have had to face something like that virtually on your own."

An awkward chuckle fell past her lips. "It was nothing. I'm okay – really. Professor Lupin came to our rescue, so…" She shrugged. "It's fine."

"Hm." Professor McGonagall watched her a beat longer, apparently displeased with the results of her inquiry. Still, she had reached a stalemate, and so conceded her defeat. "If you have any doubts, feel free to see Madam Pomfrey or any of the other professors," she told her.

Alex couldn't help the twitch of her lips as she asked, "Like Professor Snape?"

Now Professor McGonagall officially seemed amused. "Maybe as a last resort."

Chuckling, Alex excused herself from the room. She couldn't wait to grab some lunch – the house-elves had revealed to her the menu for the day when she popped in last night, and she was dying to try their fish and chips.

There was a brief pause in her steps when she took notice of the figure waiting for her down the hall. Her face broke into a bright smile as she headed straight for Cedric.

"Hey, stranger," she said teasingly. "I almost forgot what your face looked like."

"It's been a month," he reminded her with a laugh. "Besides, you still have a copy of that photo of us."

She did indeed; it was taped onto her vanity at home. "Real friends visit their family's ice cream parlour fortnightly, if not weekly," she scolded him sternly.

He rolled his eyes amicably. "Not everyone has a massive sweet tooth like you do."

"How pitiful," she sighed mournfully. She dropped the act as realisation struck her. "What are you doing here, by the way?"

"I was trying to locate a lost student." He pointed at the lapel of his robes. Pinned to it was a shiny yellow badge bordered in bronze, symbolising his position as a prefect.

Alex gasped in delight. "Prefect? Congrats, Cedric!"

He beamed. "Thanks. Now, come on – lunch will end at this rate."

She shook her head in wonder. "I can't believe you managed to keep this from me," she confessed. "What's it like? Being prefect?"

"Truthfully? A bit daunting." They went down a set of stairs instead of continuing towards the Great Hall. "In addition to this, quidditch practice, and studying for O.W.L.s, I won't have as much free time this year."

The admission sobered her up as effectively as a detoxification potion. "Oh," she murmured, gripping the strap of her book bag. "At least the perks are worth it, right?"

Cedric nodded. "The bath is _amazing._ Alex, you need to become prefect next year."

"Yeah, no," she snorted. "You didn't do a great job of selling the position."

"Trust me," he said, tickling the pear. "Being prefect will open up a lot of doors. Who knows? You might even become head girl."

She grimaced. That sounded less appealing than Cedric assumed it did.

The door inched open, and a flash of cognizance had Alex snatching its edge before Cedric could get a proper view of the kitchen's interior. A swift sweep of the place confirmed its lack of ex-cons, though, and Alex tried to appear indifferent as she nudged the door open the rest of the way and waved Cedric in.

"Are you okay?" he asked slowly as he entered the kitchen. "You've been acting weird lately."

"Lately?" she echoed with false amusement. "We just met up."

Cedric wasn't buying it. "You weren't at the Sorting Feast, and you always attend that. If you hadn't finally shown up for breakfast this morning, I would've assumed you hadn't boarded the Express at all."

She put off answering his barrage of questions by putting in her order to the house-elves. The same one from last night made her way over to her; Alex recognised her by the floral tea towel she was wearing like a dress.

"I'm been under the weather this week," she finally explained. Her facial expression carefully rearranged itself so that it offered a visage of distress. "So I've been resting when I can."

Cedric deflated slightly in his seat. "Oh," he said, a note of relief audible in his monosyllabic reply. "You don't need the infirmary, do you?"

His sincere concern was touching, if a little vexing. "I'm fine," she said. "Really."

* * *

Ron leaned forward to peer over her shoulder. "What d'you think Dumbledore wants with Harry?"

Irritated, Hermione used the feathery end of her quill to indirectly remove Ron's face from her personal bubble. "I'm not sure," she hissed, having been interrupted twice in the five minutes since they had sat down in the common room.

Dinner had just ended, and instead of joining them in the common room, Harry had gone to Dumbledore's office as per the letter he had received this morning. It arrived at the same time as today's edition of the Daily Prophet had; Hermione suspected Dumbledore's request and this morning's breaking news were somehow linked.

Ron managed to remain quiet for a solid fifteen minutes before pestering her with another inquiry. "Why're you doing Muggle Studies, anyway? If you're gonna drop Divination, you might as well drop that too."

Hermione heaved a sigh. "Ron, how do wizards and witches in general perceive muggle life?" she asked, pausing in her note-taking. Her Muggle Studies textbook wasn't going to annotate itself.

"Uh, poorly?" offered Ron, sitting up slightly. He abandoned the comic book he had been leafing through. "Can't say we're experts in that area."

"Exactly. I wanted to find out how ignorant the magical community is so that I can figure out how to solve the issue."

"And you think Muggle Studies will help?"

"It won't hurt," she reasoned.

"It might," countered Ron. His eyes drifted to her bulging bookbag.

Hermione dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. "Lightening charms."

It was a testament to their friendship that Ron didn't even appear surprised. "We're not meant to learn that until later this year," he reminded her.

"It was tricky," she admitted, moving onto the next chapter. "But I received some helpful tips."

"From who?"

"Alex."

The mood abruptly plummeted. Hermione bit her lower lip; Ron's shoulders became all bunched up. It was a sore topic for both of them, one they had wordlessly agreed to avoid for the time being.

Hermione had thought long and hard about that conversation in the car. She had discussed it with Ginny, who witnessed everything even as she tried hard not to eavesdrop. Hermione had been dismayed to discover that Ginny sided with Alex, claiming she saw the logic in her argument. In Ginny's eyes, it was an act of self-preservation, not spite.

So Hermione had prepared an apology. She had written it out, practised it, and planned to recite it to Alex after dinner. As someone who prided herself in being organised planner, Hermione had resolved to execute her plan to the letter – except for the uncomfortable surprise she had been greeted with at dinner.

Alex had been sitting with her Housemates. Moreover, she was mingling, and seemed visibly entertained by their company.

Ron had his own opinions on the matter, of course.

"I still can't believe she said that," he exclaimed in disgust. "Did you see how friendly she was with the other snakes? Unbelievable!"

"Not really," mumbled Hermione. She rolled her eyes at Ron's hysteria. "It's only natural for her to get along with her Housemates."

The rational part of Hermione was glad Alex was finally befriending her fellow Slytherins—she imagined it wasn't fun, purposely alienating yourself from your roommates for the entirety of your school life—but that didn't stop the insecurity from throwing a wrench in her works.

She still intended on carrying through with her apology – just not today. Perhaps tomorrow? Or the day after. Time was no issue for her, after all.

"Yeah, well," groused Ron, "you can't deny she's getting more and more snakelike. She's the reason Scabbers is gone!"

"Are you _still_ going on about that?" asked one of the Weasley twins. Hermione was certain it was Fred, based on the incredulity he was radiating. "Give it a rest, Ronald."

Eyes narrowed, Ron demonstrated what he thought of his brother's idea with the help of a single finger.

Seven minutes later, they were in the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey could tend to the pimples that slowly but surely continued to sprout on Ron's face.

"And who, pray tell, did this?" she asked archly as she slathered some foul-smelling lotion onto the affected areas. It looked like pond scum, really.

Hermione cleared her throat emphatically when Ron remained silent.

"I can't say," he grumbled, his gaze glued to the bed he was sitting on.

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval even as she finished up. "Whoever it was, they did quite a number on you. Fortunately, they were kind enough to control the hex so it only harmed your face." The last line was uttered with more than a hit of dryness.

Hermione smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said, always mindful of her manners.

"Yeah," sighed Ron, settling into the bed. "Thank you."

Nodding, Madam Pomfrey capped the tub of lotion. "Wash it off in another ten minutes or so – keep it on for no longer than fifteen." Once she was certain they were taking her warning seriously, the mediwitch returned to her office.

"I wonder what happens if you leave it on for a while," mused Hermione as she settled in the seat by Ron's head.

"Maybe it'll dye your skin for good," he suggested. "Hey, 'Mione, do you know any good hexes? Out of curiosity."

Hermione's crossed her arms. "I'm not helping you get revenge on your brother."

Ron sighed. "It's a shame I took a vow to never speak to _her_ again. She would know a few hexes."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," chided Hermione. "Alex's name isn't cursed." She wasn't a Dark Lord. Or was it Dark Lady?

"You never know," he claimed. "Your cat might be eaten next. Then Harry's owl – then _all_ the pets."

Hermione was beginning to understand why the green salve shouldn't remain on for long.

Afterwards, when Ron's face recovered, they returned to Gryffindor tower. To their palpable surprise, Harry was there, but he appeared to be on his way out again.

"Hi," he said breathlessly. His cheeks were flushed with exertion, and the way he was panting indicated he had ran here. "Was wondering where you two were. I gotta go back to Dumbledore's, though."

"With your cloak?" Ron asked incredulously. True to his words, the end of Harry's invisibility cloak was dangling out of his bag. The shimmery material was hard to spot in the firelight.

Harry nodded. "I'll explain later," he promised them, taking off.

They watched him run out of the common room, a bit miffed. "Think it's another adventure?" wondered Ron.

"I'm sure it's nothing," said Hermione. She couldn't help but speculate, though. Why did Professor Dumbledore want the invisibility cloak back? It wasn't like he wasn't powerful enough to produce a Disillusionment Charm capable of rendering himself invisible.

So if the headmaster didn't need it, who did?


	26. Disappear, Reappear

**A/N:** Content creation...is difficult. Thanks for your reviews; they're super helpful. As always, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

 _Disappear, Reappear_

After a stressful day of defying the laws which governed reality, the students of Hogwarts generally elected to relax either in the student lounge or their designated common rooms. The weather permitting, they could also lay about by the lake or in the courtyard in the middle of the castle.

The library was anything but calming. Rather, it had the opposite effect: if the sight of Madam Pince's unwelcoming glower didn't scare you off, the furious scrawls and occasional cries of desperate students did. Unless, of course, you managed to score a secluded spot away from all that.

Alex was one of the lucky few who managed one. To be fair, she hadn't discovered it herself; the portrait of Professor Galing, Binns' predecessor, had shared its location with her out of pity. Apparently, Alex just looked that bad.

A lack of sleep did that to you. Or was it more accurate to say an abundance of nightmares were the cause? She fell asleep easily enough - it was just what happened when she was asleep that disturbed her respite. She had presumed the terrors would fade away with time, but it had been a week since the incident, and they showed no sign of stopping.

On the bright side, her rest remained undisturbed as long as it was during daytime. The sunlight seemed to chase away the horrors to the dark, dusty corners of her mind, and Alex was ever more thankful someone had had the foresight to design fake windows in the Slytherin dorms to simulate the weather outside.

In addition to Binns' classes, the library was the next best napping spot. Her secluded seat in particular ensured no one could find her, let alone disturb her.

Sadly, Stephen Cornfoot seemed to be part-niffler. "Oh, there you are, Alex," he said, cheerily oblivious to her stink-eye. "I've been looking for you. Charms club starts in an hour, y'know."

"Oh dear," she drawled. "We'd better hurry. You go first; I'll catch up with you."

Stephen frowned, confused. "But you don't know where we meet up."

"I'll manage."

"No worries." To her horror, he settled into the seat across her. "I'll keep you company until it's time to go."

Alex glanced around at the dark enclosure she managed to hole herself into. In what shape or form did her circumstances indicate she wanted company in the first place?

But Stephen was already making himself at home. He pulled out a sheaf of papers that Alex eventually realised was a pile of essays. They were all on the same topic to boot.

"Do you normally write ten drafts of the same essay?" she asked sceptically.

"Hmm?" Stephen looked up from his annotations. "Oh, these. They aren't mine. I'm an editor for hire."

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. "That's a thing? Wait — how much do you charge?"

Rather than replying verbally, Stephen withdrew a contract from his folder. There was a disclaimers, his rates, and agreements that required signatures. All in all, it was pretty official for something as simple as peer-marking.

"Wow," she murmured, impressed. "How much of your time does this take up?"

Stephen hummed in thought. "I have ten regulars—first and second years—and a few irregulars… So about five hours a week? Friends and family get a discount, though," he added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Alex snorted. "I'm good," she told him, smirking. "What do you charge your sister?"

"She does my chores at home."

"Slave-driver," she muttered beneath her breath.

"Whoa, hey," Stephen protested with a smile. "I'm just fulfilling my duties as an older brother."

"Hm." If the Weasley sons were any indication, Alex considered herself lucky to be an only child.

Suffice to say, not much studying was accomplished in the hour they killed prior to the club meeting. Stephen was probably the most easy-going and least absurd Ravenclaw Alex had ever befriended, even if he did have the annoying tendency to mumble whatever he was reading at that moment.

Stephen checked his watch. "It's almost time," he announced once he was done recounting what magical China was like.

Before Stephen could take the lead and expose her hiding spot to the entire library, Alex overtook him. She winded through the aisles with ease, avoided the drifting ladders and floating books, and peered out from between two bookshelves before deciding the coast was clear.

"How'd you even find that spot?" Alex couldn't help but ask as they exited the library.

"Madam Pince is sweet on me," claimed Stephen – and honestly, that led to more questions than answers. "She was very forthcoming about your whereabouts."

"That's creepy," Alex said flatly.

"Is it?" wondered Stephen. "It's pretty important for a librarian to be aware of stuff like that. What if you get locked in?"

"Not that," she clarified, following him down the stairs of the Training Grounds tower. "The fact that Madam Pince is capable of being sweet on anyone. What'd you do? Put a permanent Silencing Charm on someone?"

Stephen's eyes widened in surprise. "That's a thing? See, this is why the Charms club needs you, Alex."

It was a shallow compliment, one clearly meant to butter her up so she'd actually stick around instead of peacing out after one meetup. Still, after the week she had had, no one could blame her if she felt flattered by that.

The club met up every Thursday on the same floor as the Charms classrooms. According to Stephen, Professor Flitwick liked to drop in sometimes to check up on them. Otherwise, they didn't really have a leader; everyone took turns helping each other out.

Personally, Alex saw no problem with that. But Stephen said the club needed structure — something she was supposed to supply, not just because of her advanced knowledge but also due to her status as the oldest person there.

True enough, she was the only fourth-year there. There were eight other members including Stephen; the only other Slytherin there was Millicent Bulstrode, whom Alex believed to be in the same year as Harry.

They were sitting in a circle constructed by the tables and chairs of the unused classroom. On the board were the words VANISHING CHARM, and Alex realised with a silent groan that she was expected to facilitate this evening's meeting.

"Hey guys," said Stephen as he sat down in one of the opens seats. "This is Alex Fortescue, a fourth-year. She's interested in joining the club."

Alex barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the blatant lie. Instead, she addressed the group watching her.

"Okay," she said, trying not project any anxiety she was experiencing as multiple pairs of eyes zeroed in on her. "Raise your hand if you've heard of the Vanishing Charm before."

Every single person in the room, barring her, raised their hand. Some were slower to do so than others, perhaps because they actually didn't know of the spell, and were just lying to appear on the same page as everyone else (Duncan did that a lot).

"Keep it raised if you heard of the Vanishing Spell." Alex smiled as half the hands went down. "Well, they're one and the same. The spell is actually considered a piece of transfiguration magic and not a charm, as some magical theorists argue that the object is being transfigured into nothingness. Personally, I think that's a bit of a reach since you could say almost everything falls under the branch of transfiguration magic." Medicinal potions, for example, could be said to transfigure illness rather than eradicating it.

Shaking her head lightly, Alex changed the subject before she could lose the crowd completely. "Can someone pass me something they don't mind parting with?" she asked, approaching the circle with her wand in hand.

A sickly looking boy obligingly handed her a ball of paper he had been toying with.

"Thanks," she replied distractedly. "So to cast the charm, you have to encircle the item with the tip of your wand—just once—and say, _Evanesco."_

The wad of paper disappeared as intended. "And there you have it," she said, shrugging.

"But where does it go?" asked a girl with thick glasses.

Alex tugged on a lock of her hair. "There are a lot of theories about that," she said slowly. _Too many, in fact_. "Some scholars suggest Vanished objects are transported into black holes or voids, or that they get converted into magic absorbed by whatever's around. But no one knows for sure."

Was that boy next to Stephen taking notes? Hm.

"Try not to focus on that too much," she advised them. "It'll just distract you from the actual spell."

She had learnt that the hard way, all those years ago in her early Transfiguration lessons. Alex still sucked at it, though, just like the members of the Charms club couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the mystery of the Vanishing Spell.

Surprisingly, it was Millicent who assumed the role of assistance and guided others through the spell. She hadn't even completed it herself, and yet there she was helping others.

In the end, Alex repeated her demonstration six times and explained the framework of the spell in four different ways. Millicent eventually had it down, while the sickly boy—Eric Sobbi—managed to Vanish part of an old quill he had brought in.

"That wasn't bad," mused Stephen once the meeting ended. "It went better than expected, actually."

Alex huffed as she reclined in her chair. "Can't say I feel the same way."

"It'll get better next time," he assured her, standing up.

Stephen basically ran out of the room before Alex could do more than sit up in surprise. Still, she had to admit that the session was productive in more ways than one.

It also landed her with a newfound appreciation for teachers in general. So, the next day, when Alex walked into her first DADA lesson of the year and saw a projection of a dementor on the board, she just managed to stop herself from cursing Lupin out then and there.

Alex froze for a split second as she silently debated skiving. But then Lupin smiled at her in greeting, and she resigned herself to a lesson centred on her the figure which stalked her dreamscape.

Fortunately, no one acted nearly as poorly as she did to the projection, so at least Lupin wasn't going to be chewed out by irate helicopter parents any time soon.

"Good afternoon," he said amiably. His smile didn't waver at the tepid response. "As you have probably inferred, we'll spend today's lesson on dementors. Please raise your hand if you've heard of them before."

One-third of the class signed affirmative, Alex included. Lupin nodded, a mild expression on his face. He looked to be in a much better condition now than when Alex had first met him; Sirius's exoneration had bolstered him both emotionally and financially. She eyed his new robes speculatively, recognising the design.

"Dementors," he continued, turning to the chalkboard, "are some of the foulest creatures to roam this earth. They feed off all that is well and good in the world, and drain their victims of their life and soul, leaving them as shells of their former selves – a fate worse than death, in my opinion."

Several students shifted in their seats. Despite Lupin's light tone, it was clear he had some personal bearing on the matter. _Relatable,_ thought Alex, staunchly keeping her eyes on Lupin's handwriting as opposed to the projection looming over them.

"Now, because they survive off despair, they'll more often than not draw forth some of your worst memories to the surface of your mind to ensure as much negativity as possible." Lupin swept his grave gaze over them. "Those with trauma are especially vulnerable to dementors."

Trauma, huh? Alex bit down on her lip as she fought off the memory threatening to drag her under like a tumultuous wave.

"So how do we fight these manifestations of fear and despair?" he asked them once he finished writing down the Ministry classifications of dementors.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Hufflepuff raise their hand. "By thinking positively?"

Lupin smiled. "That's one way, yes," he said approvingly. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Anyone else?"

Katherine put up a hand. "There's a specific charm dedicated to warding off dementors," she declared. "The Patronus Charm."

"Five points to Slytherin," continued Lupin in that warm tone of his. The Slytherin half of the class perked up with interest.

"Your word choice is very apt here, Katherine," he announced after a brief consultation of the seating chart on his desk. It was magical, of course, appearing automatically in every class as long as the proper spells were in place. "You can ward off dementors, you can chase them away, but you cannot fight them. The only way one can hope to destroy a dementor is by lifting the collective spirits of the world. A difficult feat, but one that isn't impossible."

Lupin the professor was a sharp contrast to Lupin the wizard. He was in his element here, and Alex regretted the fact that years of their Defence education had been squandered on the corrupt frauds forced onto them.

As the lesson progressed, Alex's mind wandered back to her conversation with Hermione after they had made amends. She approached her on Wednesday night outside the Great Hall. Alex had just finished eating and was planning on doing some studying in the library when Hermione ambushed her into an abandoned classroom away from prying eyes and ears.

Hermione's speech had been sincere, if a little rehearsed, and Alex in turn apologised for her rudeness. Feeling the need to patch things over further, she asked Hermione how her third year was going.

A minute into Hermione's reply, Alex realised something. "Wait. Are you doing _all_ the electives?" she asked, baffled. "Are the professors tutoring you privately?"

Hermione made a face that meant she was hiding something. "I worked things out with Professor McGonagall," she claimed, skirting away from Alex's inquisitive stare. Her hand twitched.

Alex filed that away for later. "Is Ron still sore about Scabbers?"

"Unfortunately. I'm sure he'll come around with a little more time, though."

She sighed. It was fair, she supposed; if the tables were turned and she thought her friend's pet had killed hers, Alex would've sulked for at least a year.

"Have you had a Defence class yet?" asked Hermione, a glimmer in her eyes. When Alex replied in negatively, she grew even more excited. "You'll _love_ it. Professor Lupin is easily the best Defence professor we've had—although that's not really saying much, all things considered—and everyone else seems to agree."

The corner of Alex's lips twitched upwards as she studied Hermione carefully. "Do you…fancy Lupin?" she asked, eyeing her friend's blush. Her complexion made it slightly difficult to spot in dim lighting, but since Hermione got flustered rather easily, Alex knew what she was looking for now.

Her blush deepened at Alex's supposition. "No!" she lied. "I just admire him is all."

Aw. Hermione was absolutely adorable. Alex was about a second away from cooing over her. As much as she wanted to, she knew Hermione didn't take well to such teasing, so Alex settled for a small smile instead.

Now, as Lupin guided them through the Patronus Charm, she could sort of see what Hermione meant. Merlin knew this school was in dire need of respectable adults to look up to. Professor McGonagall could only have so many fans.

In the end, no one got the charm down pat. The closest most achieved was a faint wisp of grey smoke, the kind kettles were prone to emitting. Lupin assured them all that was normal, and that even the wisp they produced was more than he had been expecting for today. It sounded like false platitudes, true, but they were starting to realise that their professor this year was the epitome of sincerity, and so when the class ended, they all left feeling vaguely accomplished.

Well, not everyone.

"Alexandra," called Lupin from his desk, "if you could wait a moment?"

Alex tried her hardest not to throw her head back and groan. This was the second time in two weeks a professor had stopped her from leaving with the rest of the class. Who was going to be next? Flitwick? He _had_ started treating her with notable warmth as of late, no doubt due to Stephen's club.

"I noticed your reaction when you walked into class today," began Lupin, his brow furrowed with concern. "I apologise if the lesson upset you in any way."

"It's cool," she replied automatically. "It's an important subject to learn about." It wasn't like he was going to bring in a live dementor or anything.

Lupin's concerned frown deepened as Alex exhaled shakily. "Are you quite all right?" he asked her. "Did the dementor dredge up any bad memories for you last night?"

"I – yes." Confessions could be cathartic at times, and there was no point in telling an obvious lie.

Lupin seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered gently.

Alex shook her head nonetheless. Oh boy, _would_ she like to discuss it. But how on earth could you explain that you were being tormented with images of how your previous self had died? And she had repressed that memory so effectively, too…

It was clear Lupin was disappointed by her refusal, but he didn't press her nevertheless. "There was a boggart discovered in the castle on Tuesday," he confessed, switching topics admirably. "I was debating whether or not it should be brought in for a practical lesson."

Alex stared at him for a handful of seconds. "You decided not to, right?" Dread curled in her stomach at the knowledge that Lupin had even considered it in the first place.

To her ineffable relief, Lupin nodded. "After a brief consultation with Sirius, I evidently switched to dementors instead."

"Not to mention it's good for Sirius's case," Alex noted wryly. The only reason he wasn't still rotting in prison was due to a mere fluke, and so his situation had emboldened the more progressive population of the magical Britain to push for prison reforms – starting with the elimination of dementors as guards-slash-torturers.

Lupin had enough self-awareness to smile bashfully. "Well, that doesn't hurt either."

Alex rolled her stiff shoulders. "How is he, by the way? Did the talk with Harry go well?"

"You and Harry are friends, correct?" When Alex nodded affirmatively, Lupin's expression grew puzzled. "He hasn't told you?"

She valiantly did not take offense at how Lupin's eyes flickered to her green nails and the snake ring adorning one of her fingers. "We planned to meet up today," she explained, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"I won't keep you, then," he assured her with a smile. "Have a good evening."

* * *

She could hear the chaos within Hagrid's cabin before she even stepped foot inside.

Harry opened the door in response to her two knocks. "I hope you've brought a bucket," he quipped, letting her in.

"Hermione can always transfigure one for us." Alex paid Fang his affection toll by dutifully petting him and accepting a single lick to her cheek. "Why is Hagrid crying?" she asked, wiping the slobber from her face with the sleeve of her robes.

"Um, you might want to sit down for this," advised Harry as he returned to the table. Tea and rockcakes were already laid out for the three of them.

Alex took a seat, Fang trotting after her. He rested his chin on her lap, tail wagging lazily as she played with his ears.

"I got here early, and Hagrid started asking me about Sirius Black, and — get this, Alex." Harry's back was ramrod straight even as a wide grin stretched his lips. "He's my godfather."

Above them, Hagrid blew into his handkerchief loudly. "I-I'm so happy for yeh, Harry," he said, sniffling. "Y-You an' Sirius both."

Though already aware of this fact, all the emotion in the room made her tear up regardless. "Tell me more," she said, reaching for her tea.

Harry did. He told them how he went to Dumbledore's office on Wednesday night per his request. There, sitting in front of the Headmaster, was the recently acquitted ex-con Sirius Black.

"I wasn't sure what to think," confessed Harry, laughing slightly. "Ron says he would have run away, thinking Dumbledore had finally cracked or something."

In reality, Harry had just stood there in confusion. He quickly grew bewildered when Sirius, crying, introduced himself as his godfather and a good friend of his father's.

Hagrid wiped away a stray tear before it fell into his beard like the others had. "So is Professor Lupin," he informed them, his voice still stuffy.

Harry nodded, unsurprised. "Sirius told me. We've been meeting up in Lupin's office every day. They have so many stories about my parents…" His expression hardened. "And about Pettigrew."

"The real culprit?" asked Alex, thinking back to the bombshell released in the _Daily Prophet_ on Tuesday morning. He was dead now, having been Kissed by the dementors not long after Sirius's name had been cleared.

Fang whined, forcing her to resume her petting.

"Yeah," muttered Harry, swallowing thickly. "He was selling secrets to the other side. Pettigrew's the reason why..." Wordlessly, he touched his scar.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them like a heavy blanket.

"Do Hermione and Ron know?" she asked, fumbling for her tea.

Harry nodded, sufficiently distracted from his reverie. "I told them right after I returned from Dumbledore's office."

Alex hid her clenched jaw behind her cup. _Why wait 'til now to tell me?_ she wanted to demand. It was a petty thought, one that surged to the forefront of her mind without her permission. Still, she understood Harry's actions; he would've been busy catching up with Sirius and processing the reality he could have had.

She wondered if this wasn't an improved alternative. If Pettigrew weren't a traitor, if Sirius remained the Secret-Keeper and Harry had grown up hidden from society, he would've been raised as a weapon whose sole purpose was to destroy Voldemort.

Alex poured herself another cup. Hagrid couldn't bake for the life of him, but he sure could make tea — he probably grew the leaves himself, now that she thought about it.

"You two should meet him," Harry said brightly. "He's leaving the castle today, and Ron, Hermione and I were gonna see him off."

Alex smiled. "I'd love to meet your godfather."


	27. Brittle Winter

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 _Brittle Winter_

By the end of October, her nightmares had subsided. As it turned out, the key to a dementor-free mindscape was regular meditation; it especially helped when she did it right before bed. With her REM reinstated, Alex felt like her year was finally beginning to look up. Her grades were great, her mood had improved, and her friendships had evened out at last.

Except… She and Grant weren't on bad terms per se, but something had evidently shifted since their tiff before the Sorting Feast. After a few days of stony silence on each end, Alex had swallowed her pride and apologised to Grant, who caved easily and confessed his own regrets. They were still friends, of course, and she still sat with the Ravenclaws during class and mealtimes, but it happened less frequently than it had the previous years. Part of that was due to her newfound camaraderie with her Housemates, true, but Grant definitely seemed more distant with her than before.

"Don't take it to heart," Duncan advised her with a sympathetic smile. "He's going through some stuff right now."

Still, Alex couldn't help but feel as though her insensitivity had only exacerbated his turmoil. She tried her best to restore that banter, that easy back-and-forth they had – she even went to his quidditch games, with a banner that supported Ravenclaw (as long as they weren't up against her House). It didn't seem to be enough, though.

She turned to Sirius for help via owl. His replies took a few days to get back to her, since he was swamped with responsibilities now that he had reintegrated into society. He was the figurehead of the campaign to rid Azkaban and other, lesser prisons of dementors, and to retrial all cases of other war crimes. Naturally, there was a huge pushback of the latter from those who managed to charm and buy their ways out of the courts (i.e. the Sacred Twenty-Eight of pureblood society) but that at least gave the activists more wiggle room for their first goal.

Sirius's reply, when it arrived, gave her mixed feelings. He confessed he understood to some degree what she was going through, but the situations were as similar as night and day. For one thing, it was his brother with whom he cut off all ties with in fifth year, and that was because he continued to entrench himself further into their parents' twisted ideologies.

 _He was a Death Eater before they even called themselves that,_ wrote Sirius. Even through writing she could hear his bitterly wry tone.

The only piece of advice he could give her was to let things play out as they did. If her friendship with Grant was meant to be, then it would mend itself naturally. Alex disagreed, but it wasn't like there was more she could do. She had apologised, Grant had accepted it; that was the meant to be the end of that.

Sighing, Alex finished reading the letter. She had turned to Sirius for consolation and advice, but she felt glummer than ever. What was worse was that she knew Sirius's brother had died decades ago, meaning they had never reconciled. Of course, her situation with Grant wasn't nearly as convoluted, but it didn't fill her with much hope either.

She hoped Sirius was doing okay. He had enough troubles to stump a myriad of therapists, and although he _appeared_ well when she saw him the other day during their official first meeting—in the Trio's eyes, anyway—there was no way anyone could have recovered so quickly after more than a decade of torture. Still, he was doing better, and that was basically all Alex could ask for at this point.

Reuniting with his godson must have done him wonders. That much was obvious when Alex met up with everyone in Lupin's office last Saturday afternoon. Like his predecessors, he worked from the Defence staffroom, and decorated it per his tastes. According to the grapevine, Quirrell's room had been dim and dark, the curtains drawn closed with minimal lighting filling the room. His walls had been covered with mirrors of various kinds — which, in hindsight, made total sense. Harry had personally seen Lockhart's version of the room, much to his vocal displeasure; gone were the dirty mirrors, replaced instead with a plethora of photos of Lockhart himself. Unlike with Quirrell, the room had been brightly lit, perhaps so everyone could get a good look at the life-size poster that had hung at the back of Lockhart's door. Between Quirrell and Lockhart, it was no wonder Harry was warier of the latter.

Lupin's version of the office was bare to the point of boring. It looked like your everyday office; the only thing that showcased some of Lupin's personality was the framed photo of himself, Sirius and Harry on his desk. Alex ignored the weird lurch in her chest upon seeing that.

"You're late," Hermione had informed her once she entered the room.

Instead of a dry retort, Alex simply dragged her gaze to Lupin then back to Hermione. She smirked. It was a silly little crush that would be sure to fizzle out—and wow, Hermione seemed to have a thing for Defence professors, huh?—but that didn't mean Alex wasn't going to tease the hell out of her for it. That was what friends did, after all.

"Sorry," she said placatingly, still smirking. "I was taking a nap."

"Isn't that what History of Magic classes are for?" asked Ron from Hermione's left.

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," replied Alex. She purposely turned away from the sceptical look Ron was shooting her and directed her attention to Harry, who was standing right next to Sirius. "So, this is your godfather?"

"Yeah. Alex, this is Sirius," introduced Harry with an awkward wave of his hand. "Sirius, this is Alex."

"Nice to meet you," Alex said with a small grin. It was a struggle to contain the laughter that threatened to spill out. The amused sparkle in Sirius's eyes wasn't helping.

"And you," replied Sirius as he leaned against Lupin's desk. "Harry's mentioned you quite a bit. Apparently, you've helped him out a good deal despite being in a separate House."

Sirius was teasing her, she knew, but there was definitely a note of sincerity in his voice as he handed her a somewhat convoluted compliment. "Yeah, well," said Alex, shifting uneasily, "you know us Slytherins – always willing to help."

"Is that what the House of Snakes is known for now?" he asked, glancing at Lupin for confirmation. "Sure has changed since back in our day."

"I mean, it's been a century since then, so." Alex shrugged.

"Oh my god," muttered Harry while Ron slapped a palm to his freckly face.

"Alex," hissed Hermione, "don't be rude." She shot a pointed look at the professor whose room they were loitering in.

Lupin, though, merely shook his head in weary bemusement as Sirius barked out his signature laugh.

That was basically all they had time for. Soon after, Harry received his requisite pseudo-parent time with his dad's best mates while Hermione quietly chewed Alex out for disrespecting the lone adults in the room. Sirius had then bid them goodbye, promised to see them soon, and used the headmaster-approved floo to leave the premises.

Sirius was staying with his cousin Andromeda in the meanwhile. In addition to the decade or so they needed catching up on, she knew Sirius couldn't bear to be alone for extended periods of time. Whenever he went out in public, he always had at least one auror with him in case anyone tried to silence him for good. There hadn't been any attempts on his life yet, but he was certain that it would happen sooner rather than later.

 _Rest assured,_ he wrote, _I have a place tucked away from the rest of the world._

 _The kennel my dad made for you doesn't count,_ Alex wrote back, grinning.

"What are you smiling at?" asked Stephen, peering up his from his essay.

"A funny joke I made earlier today," Alex replied. She began putting away her things. "Club's about to start soon."

Stephen chuckled. "You're so into it," he all but sang.

She shrugged. "It's good revision," she explained. "Practical to boot."

Out of the all the extracurricular activities up for grabs, Charms club turned out to be the most fun and most useful. While frog choir _did_ sound interesting, she knew it'd be next to useless. The Transfiguration and Potions clubs were next on her list, but they weren't as enjoyable as Charms was. Besides, it was the closest thing to a Defence club as they were going to get.

Today, for example, she was guiding the others through the Hardening Charm. There were many giggles at the name, and Alex smirked a little as well. As they worked through it, she overheard some of the members plotting to use the charm on their bullies by turning their bags into stone.

Of course, there were better uses for the spell than that. If potent enough, the charm could even transform a living being into a statue. That was the level of skill Alex was trying to muster, at any rate. In her own spare time, she managed to turn a beetle into stone, but that was it. She would slowly work her way up the animal kingdom, granted Hermione was kind enough to revert the spell each time she succeeded.

She would've relied on Cedric if she could manage to snag him from all his responsibilities. To think he wasn't even in his penultimate year yet. She dreaded how busy he would be as a seventh-year – the head boy position was practically his ever since he had received the prefect badge in the mail. And he _would_ graduate Hogwarts no matter what; Alex would make sure of it.

Once the Hogsmeade weekends rolled around, Alex found herself seeing more of her Hufflepuff friend. They went to the village together every week, either spending the whole trip together or at least parts of it when they weren't with their respective friends. As fourth- and fifth-years, Hogsmeade wasn't too exciting, so it was especially fun when Alex accompanied her third-year friends to the village instead.

"Whoa!" gushed Ron as he entered Zonko's for the first time ever. The phrase _kid in a candy store_ popped up in Alex's mind as she watched the trio practically drool over the sweets lined along every wall. "Where has this place been my whole life?"

"Better prepare some dental hygiene potions," she muttered to Hermione, who smiled.

"My parents won't be too pleased," she confessed, reaching for a jar of fizzing whizbees.

"Get them some jellybeans for Christmas," suggested Harry.

"You mean get some for me," said Alex. The only reason Harry was here instead of sulking away in the castle was because of her idea to forge his uncle's signature on the permission slip. His initial plan back in the summer was to plead with Professor McGonagall – she was an immovable mountain, that woman. There was a reason her animagus form was that of a cat, after all.

Harry grabbed a barrel of Bertie Botts and handed her a single serving of nougat. "Happy birthday," he said for the third time that day.

"I'm gonna kill you," she promised him. She accepted the sweet anyway.

"I can't wait until Sirius legally becomes my guardian," said Harry as they left the shop. "I'll never have to rely on the Dursleys for permission slips ever again."

Ron frowned around the giant rainbow lollipop in his mouth. "Can't believe Dumbledore is making you stay with your relatives regardless. Sirius is a more better alternative."

"Much better," corrected Hermione.

"Much more better," said Alex. She batted her eyes innocently at the dirty look Hermione fixed her with.

"Did he even tell you why?" asked a persistent Ron.

Harry glanced away in discomfort. "He didn't. He just said they were family, and they were important."

They had no response to that; it sounded like a total cop-out.

"I'm sure there's method to his madness," reasoned Hermione despite her troubled frown.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"I saw that."

When they returned from Hogsmeade, the trio plus Alex decided to pay Hagrid (and Fang) a visit. He was in the midst of collecting his giant pumpkins for the Halloween feast tonight.

"So Hagrid," said Alex as she helped levitate a pumpkin into his wheelbarrow, "y'know how you wanted to do a lesson on hippogriffs?"

Hermione's shriek almost made Alex lose control of her charm. "You _what_?"

"Wicked," breathed Ron. His pumpkin had actually fallen, and Alex made it vanish with a wave of her wand as soon as she was able to.

"Surely you mean a theoretical lesson?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"What's a hippogriff?" asked Harry.

"Half eagle, half horse."

The blank look on Harry's told her he was busy working out which half went where.

"Nothin' wrong with hippogriffs," defended Hagrid as he grabbed another pumpkin. "They're gentle once yeh get ter know 'em."

"But they can rip you to shreds if you piss them off," added Alex.

"You sound way too excited," Harry said, matter-of-fact.

"That's because I'm confident they won't hurt me."

"What, you've met one?" asked Ron. He was busy shooing Fang out of the way in case a pumpkin fell on him.

"I met the whole herd."

Hagrid had taken her to the hippogriff part of the forest early last month, not long after his first CoMC lesson with the puffskeins. They were gorgeous creatures, albeit very proud and skittish. One approached her right away — a dark grey hippogriff named Stormwing.

Although she had taken the initiative, Alex had been forced to maintain her bow for half a minute before she had deemed her worthy. She slowly got acquainted with the rest of the herd over the hour or two she and Hagrid had spent in the clearing, but Stormwing remained her favourite.

"Anyway," Alex said, finally getting back on track, "if you don't want me hogging the herd, you should think about handing out permission slips for the lessons with more dangerous animals." She had overheard more than a handful of people plotting to ruin Hagrid's career—and possibly his life—if the creatures got too out of hand.

Hagrid frowned thoughtfully. "S'not a bad idea," he said. "I'll ask Professor McGonagall 'bout it."

They finished with the pumpkins soon after that. Hagrid pushed a wheelbarrow by himself into the castle, while Alex and Hermione applied lightening charms to the others.

The prefects were already in the Great Hall alongside the professors who usually helped out at events such as these. Alex scanned the room for Cedric, waving a hand when they locked eyes. Smiling, he said something to the other Hufflepuff prefect and made his over to them.

"Earning brownie points before next year's prefects are selected?" he laughed.

Alex's gaze slid from Cedric's teasing grin to the wheelbarrow in front of her.

"Don't tip it over," he said, reading her mind.

"Tch."

"Did you just click your tongue at me? Seems like someone doesn't want their birthday present."

Alex blinked rapidly in surprise. "You got me a gift? Why?" Everyone at Hogwarts usually saved their gift-giving for Christmas.

He shrugged. "Why not?" he countered.

Fair enough. She smiled as anticipation began to build in her. "What did you get me?"

"It's in the kitchen. Come see."

Cedric was done with his prefect duties for now, and since neither she nor the trio knew any spells for pumpkin-carving, they were free to go as well. She waved bye to Hagrid, who was busy trying to convince Professor Sprout that pumpkins grew best when spoken to.

The house-elves were busier than normal when they got to the kitchens, so Cedric hurriedly collected whatever it was he made for her and moved to an isolated section of the room.

"Happy birthday," he said, beaming, as he opened the gift box. Inside it was a small cake decorated with pink and white icing. There was a shoddy drawing of a black cat made of chocolate on the top of the cake.

Alex smiled. "You made this?" she asked softly.

Cedric nodded. "I figured you needed a pick-me-up. Fourth year can be the worst for some people."

She felt warm all over. Laughing slightly, Alex rubbed her eyes. "I love it. Thanks, Cedric."

"Anytime, Alex."

* * *

Once Halloween ended, the countdown to Christmas began. Well, Alex was sure _someone_ was counting down somewhere. She made sure to get all her shopping done before December to avoid the mania that occurred during that period. In addition to her usual list of recipients, this year Alex purchased presents for a handful of others.

Sirius received a pocket-sized sneakoscope and a few Jurassic Park dinosaur figurines she had gotten her mum to buy and mail to her. It was tough work animating them so they would move more or less fluidly, but she was proud of her results in the end.

Remus's gift from her seemed a bit less impressive; it was a mug that had _World's Best Teacher_ emblazoned on it. The font changed in size, shape and colour. It floated, drifted, spun and faded in and out, so it could be rather distracting at times. They were sold at a stationary store in Diagon Alley, along with mugs that read _World's Worst Teacher_. Alex had purchased one of those as well for future use.

Stephen ended up receiving the same thing she would later learn he bought for her — a book on Charms that had animated illustrations. It wasn't cheap, of course, as the magic and skill poured into a copy was unfathomable, but it was well worth every sickle.

Personally, Alex felt like the best Christmas gift she had given this year was Hermione's. Her bookish friend had been doubly horrified by Sirius's case after meeting him in person. His situation had all of a sudden become so _real_ to her. She spent the rest of the week reading up on magical Britain's legal system, and wouldn't stop peppering them about it, much to Ron and Harry's irritation. It would only get worse once Hermione received the tomes, papers and books Alex had mailed to her for Christmas.

Alex herself would've read up on such matters, but if she was being honest, they were dreadfully dull even to her. Besides, Hermione would undoubtedly return from the break full of ideas and arguments, so Alex figured she would learn from her encyclopaedic friend instead.

The excitement in the air was almost palpable on the train ride home. And why wouldn't it be? For the first time in the three years Harry had attended Hogwarts, he was finally spending Christmas with family.

"Where are you gonna stay again?" Ron asked as he took out a set of self-shuffling cards.

Harry smiled as he stroked Hedwig. "Sirius's cousin's place. I'll write their address for you guys."

Alex accepted the scrap of parchment, absently noting the proximity between Andromeda's house and her own. "You better send us loads of letters," she warned him with a wag of her finger.

Hedwig nipped at it; Harry moved his arm so she could get to it better. "I'll try," he claimed, ignoring the kick to the shin courtesy of Alex.

"No fighting," admonished Hermione as she destroyed Ron in a game of Go-Kappa.

Platform 9 ¾ was abuzz with tension by the time their train arrived. Alex spotted the source of the hubbub as soon as she stepped onto the station.

It was Sirius, and he was being gawked at none-too-subtly by the other wizards and witches there to pick up their relatives. Alex choked on her laughter when she saw someone ask him for his signature.

"Harry," Sirius said affably when they—minus Hermione, who hurried off to be with her parents—neared him, "and Harry's friends. Stir up any trouble since last time?"

"No," answered Ron just as Alex said, "Obviously."

"Obviously no," amended Harry, adjusting Hedwig's cage. "How are we getting to wherever we're going?"

"We'll apparate." Sirius clapped a hand on his godson's shoulder in preparation for the trip. "Ever apparate before?"

Harry shook his head. "I've heard of it, though," he replied, glancing at Alex.

"It's awful," she told him, moving out of the way as a family rushed past her. "Try not to barf after."

"Thanks. Your parents picking you up?"

Alex bit her lip. While she would've liked to hitch a ride with the Weasleys, she didn't want to ruin the tentative peace she had with Ron at the moment. He still hadn't quite forgiven Spitfire for his supposed role in Scabbers' disappearance, but at least he wasn't taking it out on her anymore.

"I'm gonna Knight Bus it to Diagon," she said.

"Nonsense." Sirius shrunk her trunk before she could protest. "You can come with us and use the floo."

Ugh, apparating? That was almost as bad as the Knight Bus. Still, Alex wasn't keen on getting tossed around like a rag doll again, so she accepted Sirius's offer without complaint.

"Ron!" called Mr Weasley as he approached. "There you are!" His sigh cut off midway when he noticed Sirius.

Alex couldn't help but think back to the last time she had considered the two men within the same context. The circumstances were pretty different since then in the Leaky Cauldron — and to think that had been five months ago.

"Mr Black," greeted Mr Weasley, smiling tightly. His grip on his son's shoulder was equally strong, judging by Ron's widening eyes. "What brings you here?"

Sirius's expression grew a tad strained. "I'm here to pick up my godson," he declared, glancing meaningfully at Harry. "And his friend."

"Oh," murmured Mr Weasley as he glanced from Sirius to Harry to Alex. To assure him of the matter, Alex offered him a thumbs-up. "I had no idea."

"It's true, Dad," said Ron, shrugging out of the hold he had on him. "Dumbledore was there and everything."

Mr Weasley nodded absently, as though he were contemplating owling Dumbledore then and there. "Well, have a happy Christmas," he wished them as Ron pushed him away.

"See you later, Harry," called Ron from over his shoulder.

Alex sighed with disappointment at his omission of her name. She wasn't surprised, however.

"He'll come 'round," Harry told her.

Alex shook off a wave of deja vu. Hopefully she wasn't going to piss off any more of her ginger friends this year.

"What did you do?" Sirius wondered without judgement.

"He thinks my cat ate his rat," she replied, sliding him a weighty glance.

"Ah," muttered Sirius, grimacing.

"It probably just ran away," Harry said, eager to defend her.

"You could always buy him a new pet," suggested Sirius as he shrunk and pocketed Harry's luggage. "No rodents, though."

Alex nodded. She already had purchased an owl for him – a cute little thing she had seen Ginny fawn over before. It would make its way to the Burrow on Christmas morning, according to the shopkeeper.

Speaking of pets, Sirius made Harry release Hedwig so she wouldn't have to suffer the effects of apparition with them. Accommodating Spitfire was a bit trickier, but they decided to cast a Sleeping Charm on her cat instead. That settled, Sirius placed a hand on Alex's and Harry's shoulders and apparated them away.

On the bright side, Alex didn't hurl — even better, Harry _did._ Alex ducked her head under the pretence of recoiling from the vomit when she was really just hiding her smug smile.

Fortunately, whether it was due to any anti-apparition wards on the Tonks residence or Sirius's own good sense, they were standing outside the house rather than in it. As Sirius got rid of the puddle of sick on the pavement, Alex took in their surroundings. She didn't recognise the suburb, but it looked quaint as hell. It was _very_ muggle, reminding her of Privet Drive, minus all the hostility.

The Tonks house proved even more benign. It was a two-storey structure with an expansive front yard cultivated to the letter. The red brick complemented the dark green tiled roof, and if Alex didn't know any better, she would've assumed nothing unusual lied in wait behind that brown door.

Sirius let themselves in with his key. Alex was struck by how _normal_ the interior seemed. There were no talking mirrors, no animate photos, not even chairs that tucked themselves in. Alex was gobsmacked. How did the Tonks family live like this?

She never found out, because they weren't even home. Sirius guided them to the fireplace and she grabbed a handful of floo powder.

"Make sure to enunciate," Sirius warned her after making sure she had all her things.

Alex smirked at a reddening Harry. "I'll try."

After flooing to the Leaky Cauldron, Alex walked over to the parlour. Her dad was in the midst of serving someone a scoop of butterbeer-flavoured ice cream when she entered.

"Back already!" noted her dad as she approached the counter. "Good, good. I was just about to take a break. Cover for me?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Funny."

"Thank you," he said graciously, magicking the door locked. With a wave of his wand, the sign flipped from OPEN to CLOSED to BACK SOON.

Inhaling sharply, Alex took her dad's arm and prepared herself for another round of side-along apparition.

(She had to lie down for a long time afterwards.)

* * *

Since the winter break lasted a mere two weeks, Alex didn't bother unpacking completely. She took out her reading materials and parchment and quills, but otherwise left her clothes in the trunk. Although she probably needn't have packed it all in the first place, she didn't feel quite comfortable leaving all her belongings unchecked in the dorm like that. Last year, a Slytherin firstie had returned to find all her things shredded as a result of a nasty tiff with one of her dormmates.

As she had time to kill before her parents clocked off, Alex tackled as much of her homework as she could. She managed to get a good chunk of it done when she heard the door unlock. Alex descended the stairs to greet whoever had reached home first.

It was her mum. Her brow was knit together, her lips pursed, and her overall disposition seemed peeved. Had an intern messed up another case?

"Hi," said Alex, peering over the railing. "How was work?"

As it was the first time in months she was seeing her only child, Alex expected her mum's face to break out into a warm smile. Instead, her irritation deepened.

"Why were you and Harry with Sirius Black?" she demanded, hooking her cloak onto the door with unwarranted force.

Alex reeled back in shock. "Um, he's Harry's godfather," she stammered, gripping with the railing for dear life. "He helped me get to Dad's shop. How'd you even know about that?"

"I'm one of the aurors assigned to keep an eye on him," she sighed, shaking her head. "I don't want you associating with that man."

"Why?" she asked, bewildered.

"Really, Alex? You're asking why I don't want you hanging around an ex-con?"

"A falsely accused one," Alex retorted with a snort. "If anything, the only truly corrupt party here is the Ministry."

The customers at the parlour always said she resembled her dad, but Alex knew at heart that she was her mother's daughter — the glare her mum shot her was ample proof of that.

"We at the Ministry don't go out of our way to indict innocent people," she said frostily.

"Yeah," scoffed Alex, "and you let guilty ones get away with shite too."

"Grounded. To your room." The tone of finality sealed the deal; the conversation was over.

Biting back a scream of frustration, Alex stormed up the stairs and into her room. She shut the door forcefully, startling Spitfire.

"Is it too late to stay at the castle for Christmas?" she asked him. He responded by flicking his tail in her face.

Alex sighed. She just hoped Harry's Christmas was going a lot better than hers.


	28. Perspective

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 _Perspective_

Alex was drawn out of her reverie an hour or so later by a knock on her door. It was just one soft tap, so she knew without looking that it was her dad checking in on her.

"When'd you get back?" she asked, rolling over to face him.

"A few minutes ago," he replied, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. He ran a hand along Spitfire's back, who immediately hopped into his wide lap. "I hear you got into a fight with your mum."

"Wasn't really a fight," she mumbled, watching her cat knead her dad's thighs like they were made of dough. "More like a disagreement."

"One that landed you in the slammer?" he asked wryly. Then he winced. "Poor choice of words."

Alex almost rolled her eyes instinctively, but she had already sassed one parent today. "I just don't get it," she admitted, her tone coloured with frustration. "It's clear as day the system screwed up, so why does she keep acting like Sirius Black is the bad guy in this situation?"

Her dad hummed thoughtfully. "You have to see things from her angle," he suggested. "All hell broke loose in the ministry—especially the Auror Department—when Black escaped Azkaban, which was famed for its impenetrability. Not only did they have to deal with finding a suppose felon, they also had everyone breathing down their necks for their incompetence – which worsened when it was revealed he wasn't even guilty after all. Someone else was, and now they have to live with the fact that they condemned an innocent man for over a decade."

Alex frowned. "But she wasn't involved in his case. Was she?"

"Not directly," hedged her dad, and it was one of the worst answers he could've given. "She was there during that confrontation between Pettigrew and Black; she saw the explosion, although from a distance."

"You mean..." Alex swallowed audibly. She must've been two-years-old when that happened. Despite her efforts, she couldn't remember any of this happening. Her parents must've kept it from her, must've grieved behind closed doors.

"How is she even still an auror?" she asked, horrified.

Her dad levelled her with a grave, regretful look. "We've seen worse."

A shiver crept down her spine. _The war_ , she supplied for them both. And to think another was going to break out in the just a few years' time.

Could she stop it? The question plagued her every now and then. Sure, she was armed with foreknowledge—spotty and forgotten though most of it was—but she was just one person in the playing field, and not a particularly crucial one in the scope of things.

Sometimes Alex even wondered whether or not that was the reason she had been born in the first place. If so, then the figure in charge of her life had a bunch of questions that required answering.

When her dad left her to ruminate over things, Alex closed her door and approached her bedside drawer. There were a bunch of old notepads, magazines and colouring books stuffed in there. There was but one she was interested in: the oldest in the pile, a battered colouring book with a field of flowers on the cover.

Crouched over the bottom drawer, Alex flicked through the worn book until she reached the page with a rainbow-coloured unicorn on it. Beneath its prancing form was a bunch of doodles she hoped appeared innocuous to anyone who didn't know any better.

The was a drawing of a lightning bolt hovering over a pair of glasses; a rock in a mirror; a snake in a pipe beside an open book; and a black, wolf-like dog paired with a rat. Several pages later, scattered throughout a print-out of a maze was a cup on fire that spat out those same glasses from before, a dragon, an egg, and a gravestone. It got much vaguer after that: in another corner of the maze was a crystal ball; in another was a circle within a triangle that had a line through it; and finally there was a dilapidated castle consumed by fire.

Alex traced the last drawing, feeling that familiar apprehension descend on her like a weighted blanket. It honestly frightened her how little she knew of the future. Aside from the core events she had penned down, there were a few tidbits she managed to cling onto — they only surfaced every now and then, triggered by certain circumstances.

They were mostly irrelevant, though. What did it matter that she had remembered Lockhart and Quirrell had been frauds? Why could she remember the fact that Dumbledore was a shady old coot but not recall _why_ , in fact, this was so? It was enough to drive her mad sometimes.

Frustrated, Alex left her room and joined her parents downstairs. Based on the noise, they had removed the plastic Christmas tree from the shed and were preparing to set it up. Alex joined them wordlessly and, when her mum handed her one end of the tinsel while she handled the other, she knew things were alright with them. It was hard not to, what with the way her dad was beaming at them like the ruddy sun itself.

* * *

Alex waited until they were all seated in the carriage before asking, "How were your breaks? Rake in any gold?"

"That's not what Christmas is about," cut in Hermione.

"I thought Christmas was about Jesus?" said Harry.

"Who's that?" asked Ron. He shook his head. "Never mind. Harry got a new broom! Guess which!"

"A Nimbus 2000," suggested Alex.

"That's the one he already has…"

"A Nimbus 1999."

"A Firebolt," answered Harry, grinning. "From Sirius."

 _Funny,_ thought Alex with a small smile, _he got me the same thing._

She had been stunned when she opened the conspicuously shaped package, and her parents had openly gaped upon realising what make and model it was. Alex had waited until night fell before taking it for a spin – and she hadn't even fallen, to her immense pride. It was dented slightly when her mum informed her it was charmed to help keep its rider on; even if she did fall, the broom would rush to catch her again. Now it was at home, most likely taking turns being used by her parents.

But the real surprise had been from Remus. Now she was extra glad she had given him a gift, tacky as it was. He had gotten her a book that detailed all the Dark magical creatures to watch for all over the world, as well as how to fend them off both magically and otherwise.

The chapter on dementors was especially helpful. Although their class had dedicated two weeks learning the Patronus Charm, it was relatively fruitless. The only person who actually produced a corporeal patronus had been Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw.

"Pretty _and_ talented," she had overheard Agatha murmur approvingly.

"The power of good hair," Alex had quipped.

She received a bemused look for that.

Alex knew, in theory, how a patronus worked. You had to summon a happy memory — a _truly_ joyous one. And she honestly had no clue what that was for her.

"Hermione," she said halfway into their journey, "what do you think your happiest memory is?"

Hermione peered up from her textbook. "When I got bumped up to fourth form," she said dreamily.

Yeah, that was no help. "Ron?" she asked.

He must've really liked his new owl—which Ginny had quickly stolen—because there was no frost in his voice when he replied, "When Ginny helped me thrash Fred and George."

Alex already knew Harry's—when he discovered he could leave the Dursley residence, or when he found out he had a godfather—so she didn't bother asking him. Instead, he asked her.

She shrugged. "You tell me."

"When you got a dog."

Oh, crap. He remembered that? Yikes. Sirius better not have revealed his animagus form to Harry. Judging by his lack of suspicion, it seemed they were still in the clear. Alex wasn't looking forward to explaining that any time soon.

"Nope," she replied. "Ron?"

"Whenever people kiss up to you," he decided, digging through his pockets.

She stared at him for a solid five seconds. "What?"

"What?" he said blankly.

"What d'you mean 'people kiss up to me'?" Who? When?

"It's not that they kiss up to you," clarified Ron, frowning as he struggled to put his thoughts into words, "but they definitely try to impress you. You guys have noticed it, right?" he asked, turning to his best mates.

"Uh, not really," said Harry, since he was as observant as a rock. "I've noticed people don't like you, though."

"Thanks, mate," sighed Alex.

Hermione tapped a finger against her chin. "I sort of get what you mean, Ron," she mused. "People definitely look up to you, Alex – take Ginny, for example."

"But we're friends?" she said cluelessly.

"You don't have any friends you look up to?"

Uhh. "Do dead people count?" The ghosts and portraits were pretty impressive, based on her conversations with them.

"You're friends with dead people?" asked Ron, paling dramatically.

"You're not?"

Harry shook his head, exasperated. "Who aren't you friends with?"

"Parkinson and Malfoy," Ron answered immediately.

"Well… I'm acquainted with _a_ Parkinson." Pansy's low-tension cousin, at any rate.

"You're beyond help."

* * *

Overall, Harry knew Ron was right about one thing – Alex and Malfoy really didn't get along. Maybe things would've been different if she hadn't befriended him, but Harry highly doubted it.

The blonde snit himself slammed their compartment door open just as Hogsmeade village came into sight in the distance. "Really, Potter?" he drawled apropos of nothing. Then again, that was how it usually was with Malfoy. "I know you're desperate for some semblance of a parent, but a convicted felon? Talk about low-hanging fruit."

Harry shot up from his seat, startling everyone else. He normally let Malfoy's snide jabs go for the most part by choosing to retaliate verbally rather than physically. Harry wasn't a complete pushover, though; he wasn't going to let Malfoy badmouth Sirius like that. The man's name had been dragged through the mud enough as it was.

"Say one more thing about my godfather," he spat, grabbing his wand from his pants pocket. "I dare you, Malfoy."

Crabbe and Goyle puffed up in preparation for a fight, as did Ron and Hermione. Before spells could start flying, however, someone pushed Goyle, sending him toppling into Malfoy and Crabbe.

"Strike. I should take up bowling as a hobby," contemplated Alex, who had just returned from the bathroom. Her wand was out and pointed down at her Housemates' tangled forms.

She murmured something, and the hoods of Goyle's and Crabbe's robes swallowed their heads just as they scrambled to sit up. Their hands flew to their covered faces, frantically attempting to rip it open.

That taken care of, Alex directed her wand-hand so it was pointed at Malfoy, whose weaselly face was torn between an expression of alarm and chagrin. She smiled coldly at the reaction, and Harry thought his mates were wrong. People didn't respect Alex; they were apprehensive of her.

"It's funny you should say that about Harry," said Alex lightly, "considering what type of person your father is. I bet your family's pretty worried about the talks of revisiting old war trials, huh, Draco?"

"I've no clue what you're on about," Malfoy said through gritted teeth.

Her smile grew. "I'm sure."

With a _finite incantatem_ , Crabbe and Goyle were released from their own robes. They inhaled sharply, and it was only then that Harry realised they had been running out of air the entire time. Once they regained their breaths, they turned to Malfoy for instructions.

Malfoy pulled himself up with as much dignity as he could muster. "You'd better watch your back, Fortescue. Who knows what'll happen to Black – or the people protecting him?"

Alex's body grew tense. She tightened her grip on her wand. "Rest assured," she said with forced calm, "the retaliation will be swift and painful on their parts."

Malfoy could only sneer in response. "Let's go," he barked at his goons.

Once they disappeared down the corridor, Alex closed the compartment door and sank into the padded bench with a sigh. It was as if the strings holding her up had been cut, the fight in her extinguished. Malfoy's parting comment had seriously shaken her.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, her rabbit teeth worrying her lower lip.

Alex rubbed the back of her neck. "My mum… She's one of the aurors watching Sirius."

Hermione's eyes widened. "And you think Malfoy's father is out to get them?"

"Maybe. Someone in that circle, at any rate." Alex leaned back in her seat and glanced up at the shelf that held their napping pets. "Harry, you might want to send a note of warning to Sirius. Ron, where's your owl?"

"With Ginny," answered Ron. "Want me to find her?"

Alex smiled, evidently touched by his offer. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Actually," said Harry, "I have something that can help."

It took a little work, but he eventually grabbed a handheld mirror from his bag. It was another gift of Sirius's, something he had found when he returned to his mysterious, secret apartment.

"It's a two-way mirror," he said in response to the curious looks being shot thrice his way. "Sirius has the other."

Ron's face lit up with understanding. "Like a fellytone!"

"Yep," said Harry, grinning, "just like that."

Hermione berated him with a look for misleading Ron like that, but the small quirk of her lips told him she was otherwise okay with it. Alex just rolled her eyes.

Feeling like a salesperson showing off his wares, Harry cleared his throat and held the mirror up. "Sirius?" he asked tentatively. It was his first time using the mirror, so he was unclear about the process.

After a moment, the mirror shimmered and Sirius's worried face appeared. "Harry?" he asked, his voice a tad muffled. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Well, not really." Harry quickly summarised the encounter with Malfoy.

Sirius's expression darkened, but he didn't appear surprised by the news. "Thank you for telling me. I've overstayed my welcome here, anyway," he added, gesturing towards his room in the Tonks residence.

It was an empty lie, and they both knew it; all three members of the Tonks family adored Sirius. He could stay for another year and they wouldn't even bat an eye.

From his periphery, Harry caught Alex making a move for the mirror. He conceded it to her easily.

"Hey, Sirius, what's up?" She said it casually, like she did whenever she was on the phone. "There's a rat—figuratively—among the aurors, or whoever knows about your situation. There're plenty of them in the Ministry." Her eyes rolled so far back Harry was worried they'd fall out.

"Bloody bureaucrats," Sirius muttered. "I'll be discrete. Thanks for the tip."

"No worries." Alex handed the mirror back to Harry.

"Be safe," he said, frowning.

Sirius shot him a reassuring smile. "I will. Enjoy the rest of the term."

* * *

"Did you do something to piss Malfoy off?" Katherine asked at dinner that evening.

"You mean besides exist?" wondered Alex.

Agatha frowned. The lines in her face were going to be permanently etched at this rate. "You should avoid antagonising him. Even now his family holds a lot of power."

"What, more so than the ice cream man?"

Katherine blessed them with her pretty smile. "Just a fraction more," she quipped, reaching for some mash.

"Seriously, though," Agatha pressed from across the table. Her skitterish gaze flickered from Malfoy's grumpy frown to Alex's apathetic appearance. "What happened?"

Humming, Alex tapped her fingers on the tabletop as she figured out to word her reply. "He was talking smack about my mates, so I gave him as good as he got." Well, she took the higher road, really — at least she hadn't made fun of someone for being an orphan.

Agatha made a noise of mild disgust. "You're so..." She trailed off with a shake of her blonde head.

"So what?" prompted Alex, lowering her cutlery.

Katherine slowed her chewing.

"So- So brutish," stammered out Agatha. She looked a second away from waving her goblet in the air wildly. "Why must you retaliate? Anyone with common sense would just let it slide."

"Guess I don't have common sense, then," Alex scoffed with an exaggerated raise of her eyebrows.

Agatha hissed out a sigh. "I'm just saying," she bit out, "you should think twice before crossing a Malfoy."

"Just a Malfoy? Or does this extend to purebloods in general?"

Katherine cut through the mounting animosity by stating with a smirk, "If so, Alexandra, you'll need a time-turner to save you."

Alex huffed softly in amusement. Time-turners were one of, if not the most, ridiculous magical objects in the world. To mess with the flow and flux of time, even for a few meaningless hours, was absolutely nuts — and dangerous. True, they were regulated by the Ministry, but Alex was gradually beginning to grasp just how tenuous their grip on the world was.

So imagine her surprise when she discovered that Hermione Granger of all people was in possession of such a restricted device.

It happened a full two months before exams were set to start. Alex was in the library on her own—a rarity these days—and had stumbled upon Hermione on her way to grab a reference book. Alex's swottish friend had the entire block of tables to herself, and if she listened carefully, she could've sworn she heard the wooden structure groan beneath the weight of all the books piled onto it.

"Jesus, Hermione," murmured Alex as she approached. "You studying for every subject in the curriculum?"

Hermione, who was already frazzled as it was, looked simultaneously like a deer in headlights and a kid caught with the cookie jar at Alex's words.

"Of course not," she eventually forced out with a weak giggle. "Don't be ridiculous, Alex."

Alex's mouth fell open. "No!" she gasped, scandalised and delighted all at once. "You've outdone yourself, Herm, seriously."

"Don't call me that," she snapped, scowling. Ah, it seemed like study-mode-short-tempered Hermione was out in full force.

"But Hermione is so long," she sighed.

"Well, tough. It's my name."

Alex grinned. Hermione was endearing. "For real, though, why are you studying everything?"

Hermione eyed her shrewdly. "If I tell you the truth, will you let me study in peace?"

Alex nodded as she took a seat.

"I'm studying everything _because_ I'm undertaking every subject available." Sighing softly, Hermione reached for something around her neck. She pulled out a necklace from beneath her robes. "A time-turner. Professor McGonagall received permission from the Ministry so I could enrol in every class."

"What...the hell..." Alex's brain ceased working for several seconds. "What."

"Okay, bye," dismissed Hermione as she returned to her studies.

Alex staggered back to her desk in a daze as she tried to process the bombshell Hermione dropped on her. Who in their right minds gave a thirteen-year-old free reign of a time machine for a whole year just so they could study more than they needed to? Was that a thing? Or was Professor McGonagall that fond of Hermione?

 _Holy shit._ Just what kind of connections did their Transfiguration professor have?

The next time she had Transfiguration class, Alex sent the professor a look that she hoped conveyed the magnitude of respect she had for her.

"Please stop," begged Grant as he fixed the legs of his transfigured cat. "You're creeping all of us out."

"I just really admire her, y'know?" Alex had long given up on her mutation. "She's a real one."

"A real what?" asked Duncan, confused. "Is this muggle slang?"

Grant ignored him. "If you really want to impress Professor McGonagall, you could try improving your transfiguration skills."

"Maybe in my next life," Alex muttered. She knocked on wood to be safe.

"Do you plan on flunking your Transfiguration exam, then?"

"Nah," she said, paying no mind to the fire beneath Grant's words. "I'll ace the theory and attempt the practical." It was what she did every year anyhow.

"More than attempt, I hope," Professor McGonagall commented as she surveyed their table and its hodgepodge works.

Alex smiled brightly. _I make no promises,_ she thought but didn't say. Professor McGonagall was either a legilimens or extremely good at reading people, though, because she arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

Fortunately for them both, Alex passed all her exams. The chimaera statue they were meant to bring to life for Transfiguration – hm, yeah, she didn't want to dwell on that.

Most of her subjects were easy enough to deal with, but the new professors this year for CoMC and DADA were particularly interesting. In additional to a simple questionnaire, Hagrid surveyed their ability to interact with the hippogriffs – they were scored based on how many bows received in under a minute. Alex was aware of how the test was biased in her favour, seeing how she was friends with Hagrid and thus had more access to the hippogriffs, but at the same time she didn't really care.

The practical portion of the Defence exam was an obstacle course, awfully enough. They had to make their way from the front of the Great Hall to the back by fending off the slew of magical creatures they had learnt about throughout the year. The test ended with a demonstration of the Patronus Charm, which was just a wisp of silvery smoke for most people.

"Chin up, Alexandra," advised Professor Lupin with a smile. "You managed more than some of your classmates."

Alex fiddled with the sleeve of her robes. "They're probably upset by the rumour."

"Rumour?"

"Yeah. People are saying you're not teaching after this year."

To her immense disappointment, Professor Lupin nodded in confirmation. "Do you recall when I was away for a bit, and Professor Snape had to cover my class? What was that lesson about?"

"Werewolves." Alex engaged in a stare-off with him for a few seconds before realisation slammed into her. "Oh. You're – oh. That's cool."

Professor Lupin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "It isn't, but thank you. Of course, parents and stakeholders alike are displeased with my presence now that some of the students have put two and two together. I figured I'd save everyone the trouble and resign before things get out of hand."

 _You should bite Snape._ Alex forced a smile as if the positive act would push the grim suggestion from her mind.

"We'll miss you," she said instead — and she meant it, too. He was easily the best Defence professor to grace these halls in a long, long time.

Afterwards, Alex sought out Hermione to see how she was coping. She found her outside, soaking in the warm spring weather. Her hair was even frizzier than normal, probably because of all the stress.

"I had to use the time-turner three times today," Hermione confessed when Alex sat down next to her. "I almost went mad keeping track of things. Do you know how many people spotted me and asked what I was doing back so soon?"

"You gonna keep doing this next year?" Alex asked as she ran her fingers through the tufts of grass.

Hermione shook her head furiously. "Definitely not. What's the point of studying everything if you're not going to enjoy it?"

"Relatable," she lied. "Still have the turner?"

"No." Hermione slide her a suspicious glance. "Why?"

 _Damn._ "No reason," she replied, plastering an innocent look on her face.

"Hm." Sighing, Hermione leaned back on her hands. "Do you have any plans for the summer?"

"Work. Video games. World domination," Alex listed off. "You? Paris again?"

"I've had enough of France for a while," confessed Hermione. "The Quidditch World Cup is happening in August, though, so I might see what that's like."

Alex grimaced. "Isn't there a near-death incident at every tournament?"

"What, really?" gasped Hermione. "I might just stay home, then."

Ginny wouldn't have any of it, though.

"You have to go!" she told them on the train ride home. "I need you guys to keep me company."

"You have your brothers," placated Hermione. "And Harry."

" _Girl_ company."

"You just want someone to fawn over Krum with," said Ron with a sneer.

Ginny turned her nose up at him. "Don't act like you don't have a giant poster of him tucked away in your room."

Ron's reddening face clashed terribly with his hair. "How'd you know about that?" he asked in a squeaky voice that had Harry snorting with laughter.

"Crumb?" asked Alex.

"Viktor Krum," answered Harry, pausing in his game of wizard's chess. "Famous quidditch player. He's our age, too."

"Sounds like you're a fan."

He shrugged. "That spot's reserved for Ron."

"Harry," whined Ron, feeling betrayed.

"Anyway," interjected Ginny, "my dad has a bunch of tickets from work, so you lot won't even need to pay."

Hermione was almost sold on the idea, but Alex remained unconvinced. "I dunno," she said slowly, playing with Spitfire's paws. "I'm not really keen on watching a bunch of thick-skinned lads trying to kill each other."

"Ireland's team is mostly composed of women," offered Ginny.

"Isn't their captain Japanese as well?" asked Harry.

"Alright, I'm good to go," declared Alex.

Ginny grinned, having emerged victorious. "By the way, we're in the nosebleed seats. I can't wait!"

Hermione's eyes grew wide in alarm. "It's called that because it's so high up, right? Right?"

"We should probably bring helmets just in case," mused Alex. Damn, she was already regretting her decision to go.

Oh well. It sounded fun enough.

Ron shared similar sentiments. "You worry too much," he said as Harry stole his king. "It'll be fine."

* * *

 **A/N:** And so Book 3 comes to a close. What are your hopes/expectations for GoF?


	29. Whispers in the Dark

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 _Whispers in the Dark_

Harry remained in the unfamiliar bed for a few seconds, his mind frantically making sense of his most recent nightmare. He'd been getting flashes of gut-wrenching scenes the past few days, but tonight's was the worst. He could only remember a handful of details; even now, it was drifting out of his grasp like smoke.

There had been an old man – a muggle. He was investigating some old mansion, like the one Harry was currently staying in, except a lot more decrepit and ominous. There had been a skinny person eagerly kissing up to his boss, but Harry couldn't remember who. He massaged his forehead, hoping to simultaneously ease the pain in his scar and drag out the information he sorely needed.

Frustrated, he got up and shuffled across the hall. It was midnight, but there was light seeping out from Sirius's door. His godfather didn't sleep much.

Harry knocked on the fine wood and entered when prompted. As expected, Sirius was up. He was sitting on his king-sized bed, back against the hardwood with a book in his hands. Harry tried to glimpse the title, but Sirius angled it so that he couldn't.

"What's wrong, Harry?" he asked, weary eyes scanning his undoubtedly stricken face.

"My scar was hurting," he said lamely.

If Sirius wasn't fully alert before, he was now. "What happened?"

"I had a nightmare," he began, frowning. What happened again? "I…I'm not sure what it was about."

Sirius frowned deeply. "Tell me immediately something like this happens again. If I'm not there, then owl me."

Harry nodded, his worry doubling. "What d'you think it means?" he asked, tracing his scar once more.

"Hopefully nothing," murmured Sirius. He tacked on a smile. "Now then, since you're up, you might as well finish packing, eh? So long Jamaica, hello England."

He nodded absentmindedly, returning to his room. A fortnight ago, Sirius had whisked Harry away from Privet Drive and apparated them straight into Jamaica. Although there were a few wizarding covens situated there, no one bothered either of them. It seemed as if they were on a whole different world itself, where the affairs of magical Britain couldn't even touch them. It was a vacation they both deserved.

They were currently staying in one of the many vacation houses Sirius had inherited. The large, glass windows allowed a lot of light in, and Harry's skin was several shades darker than it had been at the beginning of the trip. He stood on the balcony, watching the waves of the ocean dance beneath the moonlight.

Remus appeared from time to time, just as he had last year during Christmas, but he stayed no more than a day. Even though he was no longer a professor at Hogwarts, Remus was run haggard, doing Merlin-knew-what. When he had time, they all lounged around in the airy living room or the spacious outdoors, sipping colourful drinks and swapping stories.

Eventually, Harry retired to bed. The sun was already beginning to rise, but he slept like a log regardless. He woke up to the sounds of Sirius working the blender — smoothies were pretty much the only thing he could make. After his morning routine, Harry stumbled into the kitchen and gratefully accepted a fruity concoction with a small umbrella floating atop.

"Ready to leave soon?" asked Sirius, throwing the back the last of his drink.

Harry hummed an affirmative, removing the straw from his mouth. "What time is it back home?"

"Can't be more than twelve in the afternoon," Sirius murmured, glancing at his watch.

They left an hour after that. Although Sirius assured him that the house-elves would deal with the clean-up, Harry couldn't help but tidy after himself. It didn't feel right otherwise.

Harry was proud to note that he only stumbled slightly when they apparated this time. Warmth surged through him at the sight of the Burrow. The Weasleys had invited them to stay over the night before heading to the Cup together the next day, and Harry couldn't be more excited. He knew Sirius was a little more reserved, as people tended to tip-toe around him a lot. They were either holding onto the belief that he was a criminal or acted as if was made out of glass and would break at any mention of his past. Suffice to say, it was pretty vexing.

The twins greeted them at the door. The shifty looks on their faces disappeared once they realised who had come knocking, and they welcomed them grandly.

"Hello, you two!" chirped a grinning George. "You sure look puckered from your trip."

"How 'bout some refreshments?" asked Fred, gesturing to a tin filled with candies Harry would sooner set on fire than touch.

"Don't eat anything they offer you," he told Sirius. To the twins, he said, "Ron warned me about your trick sweets. Said one of them twisted his tongue so badly he couldn't talk for hours."

The twins laughed unabashedly, with Sirius quickly joining in. Harry grinned. While he didn't envy Ron's position, he could see the appeal in watching him fumble for the better part of the day.

Naturally, the noise attracted the other residents. Soon Harry was swamped in a massive hug courtesy of Mrs Weasley, as well as a fierce pat to the back from Mr Weasley. They greeted Sirius warmly if awkwardly, which wasn't surprising.

Ron was pointedly not looking in the twins' direction, and Harry knew he still wasn't over the little prank. As they made their way up to Ron's room, he spotted a familiar black cat dozing on the stairs.

"What's Alex's cat doing here?" he asked bemusedly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "She brings it with her everywhere."

Hermione couldn't see what was wrong with that. "I brought Crooks along too," she said, a little defensive.

Ron shook his head and muttered something that sounded a lot like "Crazy cat ladies", which earned him a smack from Hermione. Ginny snickered.

Just then a door on the second landing opened, and Percy's face poked out. He was wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression. "Oh hello, Harry," he said, surprise clearing his irritation a bit. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know—I've got a report to finish for the office—and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs."

"Harry's here?" asked a familiar voice. Oddly enough, Alex emerged from Percy's room. "Hey. How was Jamaica? Did you get me any souvenirs?" When Harry shook his head, she clicked her tongue and made a face at him.

"We're not thundering," grumbled Ron. "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic."

"What're you working on?" said Harry.

Alex tuned out a little as Percy began to ramble about his report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Cauldron thickness was a big deal to him, and she could understand it to an extent. Incomplete potions were bad enough, but ones that leaked through the bottoms of cauldrons? Nothing but a disaster waiting to happen.

Ron didn't seem to think so, though, and he made this fact known. Percy went slightly pink.

"You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger —"

"Yeah, yeah, all right," said Ron, and he started off upstairs again.

Percy slammed his bedroom door shut. Alex had to dance out of the way so her toes wouldn't get caught. Deciding Percy needed time to vent by himself, she followed the group upstairs.

"Did you just arrive?" she asked Harry.

"Yeah. What were you doing in Percy's room?"

"Unlike some people, I find his work fairly interesting. Of course, Percy jumped on the chance to brag about his dealings with the Ministry, so he pretty much dragged me to his room and talked my ear off."

Harry frowned. "You don't seem like the type to sit there and humour him."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have to if I didn't pity the poor guy." She lowered her voice to a volume that neither Ron nor Ginny could here. "He's feeling severely underappreciated since none of his siblings care about what he has to say. Even his parents aren't interested."

He shifted in discomfort, always wary of criticising his pseudo family. "How was your break?" he asked, desperate for a change of topic.

"Enlightening."

"Yeah? What'd you do?"

She shrugged. "Nothing of interest. Worked, mostly. Lot of customers from around the world coming in for the World Cup."

They reached the explosively orange room belonging to Ron. The walls were covered in posters of the Chudley Cannons, who were showing off by doing trick-shots in the air. There was a large frog in a fish tank Alex was immediately drawn to. When it slapped her hand away, she pouted and doted on Pig instead. It was a tiny grey owl that almost died twice in the short time Alex had sheltered it – first, when it reached her house with a World Cup invitation from Ron, and a second time when Spitfire decided to use the poor thing as a new toy.

With permission from Ron, Alex opened the cage and held her arm out for Pig. The hyperactive avian hopped onto her and preened under her doting care. She had good taste in picking out pets.

"Why are there four beds in here?" Harry asked, shuffling through the crowded room.

"Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," explained Ron. "Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work."

Alex peered up with a frown at the bite in Ron's words. "You should ease off Percy."

"You don't get it," said Ron, disgusted – but not at her. "He's so smug and snobby and won't shut up about his job."

"He's just proud of himself for scoring a position at the ministry, since no one else is," she shot back.

Harry seemed eager to dismount the growing tension. "Percy's enjoying work, then?" he said, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling.

"Enjoying it?" Ron scoffed. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. According to Mr. Crouch…as I was saying to Mr. Crouch…Mr. Crouch is of the opinion… They'll be announcing their engagement any day now."

Pig lost his balance as Alex shot up in disgust. As much as she wanted to catch up with Harry, Ron was being increasingly annoying this summer, and she wanted to be as far from his as possible in the meanwhile.

Not for the first time, Alex was glad she was an only child.

Her mood improved dramatically as she entered the living room. Sirius was lounging on one of the couches, with Charlie and Bill on the others. She snuck a look at Bill. With his long ponytail, fang-earring, and punk-like clothing, he was totally her type. He smiled in greeting when he noticed she was staring. Blushing, she edged forward.

"Alex!" called Sirius, his face lighting up. She adored the bloke; he always made her feel so loved. No wonder his animagus form was a dog. "I didn't know you were here. Not going with your parents?"

She sat on the other end of the couch he was occupying. "Mum'll actually be there, but on business. Dad hates quidditch."

All three men wore similar looks of shock. "How can anyone hate quidditch?" gasped Charlie, the dragon-tamer. Why were the cool Weasley brothers the ones she saw least?

She shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he's had a bad experience with it before? I've never asked."

"What about you, Alexandra?" asked Bill, and she tried to suppress the heat from rising to her cheeks once more. "How d'you feel about quidditch?"

"It's alright." The incredulous looks were back, so she was forced to explain herself. "The game makes me anxious. I can't help but wonder who's going to get hurt next, and if it'll be a serious injury." It didn't help that two of her closest friends were players of the game too.

"That's such a mature perspective," noted Charlie.

"He means lame," translated Sirius.

Alex gave him the finger, and the living room exploded with laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry. He and the others filed into the living room.

"Nothing," said Sirius, grinning. "Alex here was just showing us her predilection for birds."

"Right…" said Harry, his confusion clear as the day outside. "We were just about to help Mrs Weasley with dinner. Alex, did you wanna lend a hand?"

"Sure," she said, following them.

Mrs Weasley approved of their manners. "We're eating out in the garden," she said when they came in. "There's just not room for eleven people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? You too, Alex," Mrs Weasley added when she made no move to follow her instructions.

Mrs Weasley nodded in approval as Alex finally snapped to it. "Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry.

A loud crash resounded further down the garden. Bill and Charlie both had their wands out and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge nervously. Alex cringed at the clamour.

By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs Weasley's cooking. It was no Hogwarts feast, but the Weasley matriarch sure gave the house-elves a run for their money.

If the smell was appetising, then the taste was simply intoxicating. Alex discreetly wiped away the drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth — not subtly enough, though, judging by Sirius's snort. She flicked a pea at him. He retaliated, and Percy cleared his throat loudly before it could descend into an all-out food war. Once he was positive that they would behave, Percy continued his speech about his report to his father.

"We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports," he was saying. "Ludo Bagman—"

"I like Ludo," Mr Weasley said mildly. "He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favour involving a lawnmower with unnatural power. I smoothed the whole thing over."

Alex caught Ron's eye at that. He glanced at the shed in the corner of the yard, and if they poked around a bit, she had a feeling she wouldn't be surprised to discover a newly acquired lawnmower in there.

"Oh, Bagman's likable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department… I can't see Mr Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now."

"Bertha's hopeless, all right." Percy shook his head impatiently. "But all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know. However"—Percy heaved a sigh and took a swig of elderflower wine—"we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup."

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. "You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."

Alex's appetite vanished. They were referring to the Triwizard Tournament.

She had lied, earlier, when she deflected Harry's inquiry about her holiday. The first half of her summer hadn't been totally uneventful—it never was, really—since she had plans that required fulfillment. And it all had to do with the Triwizard Tournament.

Down the other side of the table, Mrs Weasley was loudly berating Bill for his choice in fashion.

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill. Despite his words, his tone was patient.

"You're a curse breaker, right?" Alex asked.

Bill nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Best job in the world," he joked.

Alex bit her lip. "Don't you technically break into and rob tombs?" She winced as movement and chatter around the table quieted down, but she didn't regret her question.

Hermione was the first to speak up. "I think he's more of an archaeologist, Alex."

"Archaeologists rob tombs too."

"What's the problem?" asked one of the twins. "It's not like the dead are gonna need that treasure."

"So if my grandmother's tomb was filled with money and gold, would it be okay to march into the cemetery and rob her grave? No. So why is it okay to do the same to others?"

"That's different," argued Bill. "Your grandmother lived recently, as least compared to the ones in Egypt. Those tombs are centuries old. Besides, if we don't break the curses, some oblivious muggle may end up killing themselves."

Alex's lips twisted into a grimace, as if she just swallowed a bitter pill. "I see," she muttered, her eyes on her plate as conversation picked up again at the table. Sirius was the only one who tried to pry a few words out of her, and she eventually caved after his seventh attempt. He even managed to get her to smile.

Most people were full by the time the sun set. Mr Weasley conjured candles to lighten the darkening garden before they had their homemade strawberry ice cream. Alex politely declined. While the others made room for dessert, she sat on the grass, cuddling Spitfire as they watched Crookshanks valiantly defend the garden from cackling gnomes.

They soon left for bed, as most of them had to get up early for tomorrow's portkey. Harry was among them, having rejected Sirius's offer of side-along apparition in favour of going with his friends. Alex had no qualms, and she pounced on the opportunity to sleep in.

"Time for a sleepover," Ginny sang, leading both Alex and Hermione to her room.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Didn't your mum just tell us to sleep early?"

"Yes, but Hermione, when will we ever get a chance like this again?"

"Christmas break?" suggested Hermione, but Ginny had suddenly gone deaf.

Three single beds were situated in Ginny's room, and it was quite a squeeze. Still, there was enough room for the cats to run around a bit. Crookshanks was currently grappling with Spitfire, much to her amusement and Hermione's consternation.

"Now," said Ginny, adjusting the lighting in the room so that it illuminated them well enough without getting caught, "let's talk about boys. Alex, you start."

"They're stupid. Next."

Hermione giggled beneath her hand. "While true, I think Ginny was referring to the more romantic aspects."

"I was so sure you fancied Bill, too," muttered Ginny, shifting slightly on her bed. "Until dinner, that is."

Alex closed her eyes briefly. "Please don't bring that up again. And I don't fancy anyone."

Ginny scoffed. "Come on. There has to be at least someone you find attractive."

"Does myself count?"

"If you won't do this the easy way…" A dark look overcame Ginny's features. Before Alex could blink, a pillow was in the redhead's hands, and she barely dodged it when it was thrown her way.

"This means war," she growled, grabbing the pillow and tossing it back at her.

Ginny was good, but she wasn't good enough. The pillow hit its mark, drawing a yelp from her.

"Hermione," she gasped, scrambling upright, "let's tag-team."

Alex swallowed, suddenly cornered. Before she could open her mouth and weasel her way out of things, Ginny and Hermione shared a nod and began thrashing her with their feather-filled weapons. The girls shrieked and laughed until Mrs Weasley flung open the door, a murderous glint in her eyes. Stopping abruptly, they apologised and quickly settled into bed. They waited until Mrs Weasley was gone until they spoke again.

"What about you, Gin?" she whispered in the dark. "D'you still fancy Harry?"

"Maybe. I don't know," she murmured. "Hermione? Anyone caught your eye?"

"Not particularly," Hermione replied quietly. "Alex, don't think I didn't notice your evasion tactic. Spill."

"Well, if you're sure." Alex cleared her throat. "There's the girl who lives four houses down from me who dyes her hair a different colour every few months, the guy in sixth year who likes to wear eyeliner, the young librarian who compliments something about me every time I visit, the—"

"Do any of these people have names?" interrupted Ginny.

"More importantly, just how many people do you fall for?" added Hermione.

"What can I say?" she said, shrugging. "I have a pure heart."

Someone tossed a pillow at her face, and though Alex couldn't see who the culprit was, her gut told her it was Ginny. While she was tempted to begin round two, the thought of Mrs Weasley's fierce glare was enough to still her hands.

"You'll live to rue this day, Ginerva Weasley," Alex said ominously.

There was a huff of laughter, and soon they were snoozing away in preparation for tomorrow.

Alex remained awake. She stared at the ceiling, the cold feeling of foreboding chasing away all hope of respite.


	30. The Quidditch World Cup

Chapter Thirty

 _The Quidditch World Cup_

Harry was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as they reached the crest of the hill Mr Weasley was guiding them towards. A yawn escaped him, and he was sorely regretting his decision to reach the stadium in the wee hours of the morning with his friends instead of taking up Sirius's offer to apparate there later. If he did, it would be him and not Alex getting some shut-eye right now.

A familiar figure approached, and Harry was definitely sure that he and Alex should have switched places. Cedric Diggory, accompanied by a middle-aged man, were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr Weasley, smiling. He shook hands with a ruddy-faced wizard, who was holding a mouldy-looking boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son Cedric?"

"We do," replied Ginny, who was smiling slyly. Harry recognised that expression – it was one she wore whenever she was about to hex someone or tease them. He hadn't been on the receiving end of that look yet, and for that he was glad.

Ginny was probably referring to Cedric's close friendship with Alex. He was certainly looking for her now, his eyes skirting over the crowd for the familiar head of straight, dark hair. Disappointment pulled at his features when he recognised her absence, but he greeted them all cordially enough. They responded with varying levels of enthusiasm, still weighed down with sleepiness.

"Hello, hello – Merlin's beard!" gasped Mr Diggory. "Is that Harry Potter?"

"Um, yes," Harry said, shirking beneath everyone's gazes.

"Ced's spoken about you, of course," laughed Mr Diggory. "Says you give him a run for his money every time you butt heads on the quidditch pitch."

"I'm part of a great team," he demurred, directing some of the attention to the twins.

It was far too early for this.

Fortunately, Mr Weasley made a show of checking the time and urged them to get a move on.

They all stood around the boot, touching it with no more than a finger. Cedric positioned himself between his father and Harry. "I'm sorry about all that," he said quietly.

Harry smiled slightly. He could see why Alex liked this guy. "S'alright. Don't let Alex know, though; she'll have a right laugh at both our expenses."

Cedric chuckled. "Too true. She told me she was coming to the game…?"

"Oh, yeah, she'll be arriving later."

"With her parents?"

Before Harry could answer, Mr Weasley began to count down the seconds until the portkey activated.

Harry felt a fierce tug from within his torso. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Cedric on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour and then—

* * *

"Wow," murmured Alex, her eyes on the sea of tents in front of them. "And people don't suspect a thing?"

"You know muggles," said Sirius, as he began to wade through the cluttered lot, "they like to mind their own business and make up some excuse or the other to appease their curiosity." That sounded a lot like the Hogwarts rumour mill, to be honest.

For a society built on secrecy, wand-wavers were rather ostentatious people. She and Sirius passed no fewer than five tents with their own miniature gardens laid out in front of them, and there were others that were guarded by exotic pets such as peacocks. It was pretty easy to spot with tents belonged to which sorts of families. She could practically smell the old money on some of them.

"It's a dick-measuring contest," she noted.

Sirius snorted. "That's purebloods for you."

Finding the Weasleys' tent would have been a lot easier if they weren't stopped every few metres. Quite a few people were acquainted with Sirius, and even if they weren't, that didn't prevent them from shaking his hand and sharing their sympathies with him. Their curious gazes often wandered to her, but they drifted away quickly enough when they noticed the irate glare she was wearing.

Her temper was impeded slightly as she spotted familiar faces throughout the trek. She waved to Luna, who was with her father, as they lounged in front of their silver and purple tent. She thought she could see Duncan and Grant in the distance, but she couldn't be too sure. Finally, they made their way to their tent, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief at having avoided any unsavoury types.

Sirius glanced at the sign nailed into the ground that read 'Weezly'. "Think this is it?" he asked wryly.

She shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

They peered through the deceptively small tent. While it looked like it could hold no more than two people, the interior of the tent was a whole other story. Inside, it was an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with a bathroom and kitchen. Mismatched chairs were situated in the living area, decorated with crocheted covers. That, coupled with the strong smell of cats, gave Alex the feeling that she was entering the home of an elderly woman.

"Slow-pokes!" called Ron from the kitchen.

"We've already eaten," Harry admitted sheepishly. "There are some sandwiches saved, though."

True to his word, there was a small mountain of sandwiches on the table. Alex took one—roast beef—and nibbled at it. Normally her appetitive was voracious at this time of day, but there was something in the air that sent the hairs on the back of her neck straight up.

She turned to Sirius, who was in the midst of his second sandwich. "Do you have your pocket sneakoscope?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Gave it to Remus. Hope you don't mind, but it'd never shut up once I was home."

What? "Where on earth are you living now?"

"It's a secret," he claimed with a wink.

Alex huffed, unimpressed with the cryptic nature of his response.

Although the tent was much larger than any normal tent ought to be, within a few minutes Alex was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She went outside for some fresh and decided a walk would do her some good.

More than a few people were eager to stop and have a chat with her, having recognised her as the heir to the Fortescue business. There were a _lot_ of suggestions being thrown her way, some of which were pretty good. Alex filed them away in her head even as she was occasionally distracted by whatever pets her customers had brought with them to the field.

To her glee, someone had a snake tied to a post in front of their tent. Alex smiled down at it.

"Wow," said a familiar voice. "You really do act weird when you're around animals."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Of course this is your tent," she drawled, her eyes darting pointedly between the snake, the silver-and-green tent, and Agatha's face.

"You might want to leave," Agatha advised her not unkindly. "You don't really get along with the sort of people in this area."

Alex acknowledged her warning with a salute of her fingers. Without so much as a goodbye, she turned around and headed in another direction.

It seemed she hadn't gone far enough, however.

"What in Merlin's name are you wearing?" demanded Draco as they crossed paths.

Alex's face twisted into an odd expression as she came face-to-face with the last person she wanted to run into. Normally she wasn't so wary of trading insults with Draco, but ever since their meeting in the summer, the power dynamics had shifted between them notably.

Of all the students at Hogwarts, Draco was the only one who had a parent on the Ministry's school board. Moreover, the influence Lucius Malfoy lorded over the big-shots in their government was no joke; he was more of a Minister than Fudge ever would be. It explained Draco's tendency to act like a giant prat, at any rate.

It also gave meaning to how much people kissed his arse, unbearable though he was. Alex was no groveler, but even she had her price. Cedric's life was well worth the deal she had struck up with the blonde devil back in June.

It was even worth the Hogsmeade date she owed Richard Parkinson in exchange for Draco's address. Alex wrote the Malfoy scion a vague letter requesting a meeting with him sometime at her dad's shop. As per her prompt, Draco had ducked into the parlour moments before they were set to close. For privacy's sake, Alex had flipped the sign and charmed the windows so no one could peer inside.

"Make it quick, Fortescue," Draco had snapped as he lowered the hood of his dark grey robes. Its thickness spoke of its high quality, as did the sleek dragonhide boots on his impatiently tapping feet.

Alex ignored his demanding behaviour. "The Triwizard Tournament is coming to Hogwarts, but students under seventeen will be barred from entering," she informed him, watching as surprise flickered over his face at the second half of her statement.

"And how did you come by such information?" he asked, derision dripping from his voice, no doubt chagrined at her for knowing more than he did.

She managed to quash an amused smirk. "I have my sources," she replied with half a shrug. It was actually her dad who had spilled the beans, having been informed by one his gossipy customers. It only took her mum less than a day to confirm the rumour.

"You called me down here just to tell me this?" Draco asked sceptically. He was probing for information, and none too subtly either.

"I came to ask for a favour," she said, and before his ego could inflate dramatically, she hastened to add, "and offer one in return."

"And that is…?"

Alex crossed her arms, hyper-aware of how her wand and its holster on her right arm were pressing into her other forearm.

"I want you to convince your father to get rid of the age restriction on the tournament."

Whatever Draco had been expecting from her, that wasn't it. His entire face contorted with confusion, apparently unable to control his emotions even less than she could. "How am I supposed to do that?" he asked incredulously.

"Shouldn't be too hard. After all, you'd want to enter the tournament too, wouldn't you? To be champion of Hogwarts, of our House, to bring pride and glory to your name?" A hint of longing leaked into her voice as she listed the compelling reasons for entering. Maybe she would've been keen to win the tournament herself if she was unaware of the dangers it withheld.

Draco had no such qualms, though, if the dreamy look in his eyes was anything to go by. He shook his head slightly to clear himself of such delusions. "And what do I get out of this exchange?" he asked, eyeing her shrewdly.

Clearly the offer of participating in the renowned Triwizard Tournament wasn't tempting enough. Shame, that, because her plans would go so much more smoothly if only Draco represented their school in the deadliest tournament in all of magical Britain.

Alex flashed back to the last conversation she had with Draco, when she humiliated him along with his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle — in front of Harry and his friends, no less.

With that in mind, she said, "I'll help you one-up Harry Potter."

Now, in real time, Alex glanced at her outfit: an off-the-shoulder top and denim shorts. "Summer clothes," she surmised in reply to Draco's rhetorical questions. Even with the wards surrounding the area, they were still technically in muggle territory, which meant blending in was the key. There were others also dressed in muggle clothing, albeit slightly mismatched and/or outdated.

Draco turned his head away, apparently unable to stomach her outfit. "Mugglewear is so vile," she heard him mutter.

"It's comfortable," said Alex, shrugging. Robes were convenient sometimes, sure, but they weren't great for when you wanted to feel warmth of the sun or a cool breeze against your skin.

Alex shivered as she felt a spike of hostility aimed right at her. It was a sensation she was unfortunately accustomed to thanks to her time at school.

She scanned her surroundings to locate the source, but there were too many people up and about. Alex rested her hand against her neck as she forced herself to calm down.

"You're not going to be sick, are you?" said Draco. "If you are, do it elsewhere – preferably by your tent." Although he sounded as snobby and condescending as ever, Draco looked a little—dare she say it—apprehensive. There was definitely a nervous twitch about him as he glanced around them.

Ah. He probably didn't want to be seen with her.

"Better yet," continued Draco, "you should leave entirely."

"Trust me," she sighed, already beginning to walk away, "I would if I could."

* * *

"I have to say," murmured Hermione as they made their way to the stadium, "this is quite a beautiful path."

Alex nodded in agreement. Although the sun was still up, its rays were mostly blocked out by the tall trees around them. To make things easier for the spectators, red and green lanterns illuminated the trail to the stadium. Not exactly the colours Alex would've opted for, but their soft glow was pretty enough to overlook their garish choice.

Judging by the shouts and laughter, theirs wasn't the only path in the woods. It might've even been the most arduous, as it took them twenty minutes to walk through. At last they found themselves at the edge of the tree-line and in the shadow of an enormous stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr Weasley, spotting the awestruck looks on their faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time they got near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments. Bless them," he added fondly. His tone was totally devoid of any patronisation; no, Mr Weasley was being completely sincere in admiration of non-magical folk.

"Your dad's kind of adorable," she whispered to Ginny as they made their way to the nearest entrance.

Her freckled face scrunched up. "Ew. Please don't add him to your list."

"List?" Then she recalled the previous night's conversation. "Ugh! As if!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know?" Ginny asked incredulously, but her wide mouth was twitching upwards into a grin. "Seriously, you have more crushes than my entire dorm _combined_."

Alex stuck her tongue out in reply. Surely Ginny was exaggerating.

Yeah. Of course she was.

The Ministry witch inspected their tickets before gesturing towards the topmost seats – the Top Box, she called it.

 _More stairs,_ Alex realised with a sigh.

At least they were fancy. Carpeted in a royal shade of purple, the staircase took at least five minutes of non-stop ascension before they reached a small box situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts.

"Bit over-the-top," she muttered as she got a good view of the gold theme.

"Was that a pun?" Sirius asked excitedly.

"No."

They eagerly filed into the same row of purple-and-gilt seats. As everyone got settled, a thought struck Alex.

She leaned forward so she could speak over Harry, who was sitting between herself and Sirius. "Remus isn't here?" she yelled over the din.

Sirius pried his eyes from the field to answer her. "He's at the ministry – says tonight's the best night to get work done."

"He's working at the ministry now?" Bit of a step-down, in her opinion.

Sirius shook his head. "He's fighting for werewolf rights. I'm not surprised you haven't heard about it; the ministry is doing its best to silence any reports of the campaign."

Alex rolled her eyes. _Typical._ Worse, the media was so invested in tracking the Azkaban Reformation Act that they were using it as a distraction from other issues. Progress was slow, but at least the Wizengamot hadn't killed the bill yet.

 _Speak of the devil._

"Minister!" yelped Percy in greeting. He had been hopping up and down ever since they first sat down, basically frothing at the mouth in his rush to receive every remotely important figure approaching the Top Box.

So _this_ was the ruling leader of their world. She had to say, he wasn't very impressive. Percy—and Hermione—seemed to think otherwise, judging by the stars in their eyes.

Percy's awe quickly darkened to envy when Fudge bypassed them all to shake the Boy-Who-Lived's hand. Alex had to lean back dramatically so he could get to him.

"Harry, m'boy!" Fudge said, smiling. "You're looking well."

"You too, sir," stammered Harry as the pasty man finally let go.

Then Fudge noticed Sirius. His face went slack, and Alex wondered how on earth this man even managed to get his foot in the door of politics in the first place. His only saving grace was his wordless, hasty retreat to his seat in front of them.

Alex snorted at the spectacle. This was better than the actual game.

Of course, that was when the Malfoys arrived.

It was just Draco and his parents, and although Alex had caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy before during the conclusion of the basilisk ordeal, this was her first time seeing Narcissa. She carried herself with a poise that clashed with her inelegant, sneering family. Sure she had her nose held high, but at least she wasn't smouldering with disdain like Lucius was.

"Cornelius," said Lucius, extending his hand to the Minister. _Cornelius?_ "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

Instead of acting chafed by the personal address, Fudge smiled and bowed to Narcissa.

Alex brought a hand to her mouth in attempt to hide the mix of disgust and horror threatening to show on her face. Was that normal? Was it custom for the leader of magical Britain to actually lower their heads for others? Lucius Malfoy wasn't even that important a figure; last she heard he was still the chairman of the school board.

Lucius's gaze swept over them before landing on Mr Weasley. "Goodness, Arthur," he said softly, eyes hooded. "What did you have to sell to get these seats? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

 _Yikes._ As much as she despised Lucius Malfoy, he sure knew how to deliver a burn.

Alex was keen to hear how Mr Weasley would retaliate, but Fudge—who had been busy trying to communicate with the Bulgarian minister—said, "Lucius here has just given a _very_ generous contribution to Mungo's, did you know? He's here as my guest."

"That's so funny," Alex said conversationally with a flick of her hair. She smiled as Lucius stopped glaring balefully at the sole muggleborn of their group. "I've just sent off my yearly donation too."

It wasn't much, to be sure. While her basilisk money wasn't going to run out any time soon, it wasn't growing exponentially either. Still, a few well-placed donations here and there didn't hurt.

"Hilarious," Draco said in the ensuing silence. His face was expressionless, but his tone — it puzzled her in its ambiguity.

But it was his mother's reaction that interested Alex the most. Her eyes had sharpened, and she was now measuring Alex with tempered intensity.

Afterwards, when the Malfoys finally got to their seats, Harry leaned close to her and muttered, "You know you hit my face with your hair, right?"

"Did I?" she asked lightly, smirking.

He rolled his eyes at her transparency. "Really, though," he continued, sobering up slightly, "Draco's mum is Sirius's cousin. They barely even glanced at each other."

At that, Alex peered past Harry. Sirius's face was carefully neutral.

"I guess it'd be like running into Dudley after a decade," mused Harry, shrugging.

"Except Dudley isn't as pretty," she murmured, leaning into her seat.

Harry shook his head in quiet amazement. "You seriously have a thing for blondes."

"I do not!"

Her protests were soon debunked by the presence of the veela. They were, distastefully put, the mascots chosen by the Bulgarian team. After they traipsed off the field, allowing Alex to calm down, she understood the sentiment behind their choice: Ron had torn his shamrock hat to shreds, so enthused was he for the Bulgarian team beneath the veelas' charms.

Sirius and Mr Weasley shared a hearty chuckle at the teens' reactions, while Hermione huffed and shook her head.

"I didn't do anything weird, did I?" she asked upon hearing how Harry confess to wanting to jump out of his seat to impress the veela.

Ginny shrugged. "I was a little out of it myself," she confessed.

 _How embarrassing._ Alex pressed a hand against of her warm cheeks. _And right in front of the Malfoys, too._

If only she could've seen—and captured—Draco's reaction. Blackmail for days.

Ireland's display, in contrast, was bogus.

"Putting the sham in shamrock," she announced as the Leprechaun gold gently rained down on them.

Sirius grinned. "Now that was definitely a pun."

As the game began, Alex wasn't sure about the decision to employ veelas after all. They had taken to distracting the referee, and when threatened to be sent off for it, the Bulgarian players actually tried to argue back. Things got heated, and Bulgaria ended up with another penalty in Ireland's favour. That was enough to tip the game to Ireland despite Krum's capture of the snitch.

"Amazing match!" praised Mr Weasley as he clapped enthusiastically. "They'll be talking about this game for years."

Their group certainly spent all night discussing it, at any rate. Alex stayed up with them for half an hour before concluding she didn't care enough to keep up with their dissection of the game. She turned into bed early, once again bunking with Hermione and Ginny.

A scream woke her up. No, scratch that — it was a cacophony of shrieks and cries and, judging by the sound of things, they weren't noises of celebration.

She could hear Mr Weasley urgently waking his youngest before moving onto Hermione. Alex was already up and pulling her bathrobe on by the time he turned to her bed. Wand in hand, she rushed to the entrance of their tent, where Harry and Ron were already peering out of.

A crowd of witches and wizards, steadily growing in number, were marching through the campsite. They blew away tents as they passed, lighting up several on fire, and cursing anyone they came across. What made her blood boil, though, was the sight of three figures floating above them, screaming in terror as they were twirled around mid-air while other jeered and sneered below.

Their fear overrode hers. Before anyone could stop her, she dashed out of the tent. The adrenaline rushing through her blocked out their shouts of protest. All reason left her mind as she saw red.

She didn't bother applying the Disillusionment Charm. There was no way she could maintain it, and besides, she might end up being hit by a stray spell anyway. The darkness of the night would have to cloak her.

The aurors surrounding the terrorists were struggling to break their ranks without hurting the muggle hostages being toyed with above. Alex ducked behind a semi-collapsed test as she flicked through her mental notes for anything that could help.

She was so caught up in trying to work out a viable solution that she didn't even register the presence behind her. Someone slapped their hand on her arm; she almost screamed bloody murder before she recognised the person connected to the hand.

"Alexandra!" hissed her mum, slapping her wand-arm down. "What do you think you're doing here? Get into the woods with the other children!"

"Mum," Alex breathed. She could barely hear her own voice over the drumming of her heartbeat.

A fiercely determined expression was set into her mum's weathered features. Her robes were dishevelled but otherwise whole. "Leave," she said. "Leave it to the qualified adults."

Alex nodded as she swallowed back her fear. "Be safe," she murmured as she ran past her mum.

It took great effort, but she managed to cast a Shield Charm strong and large enough to cover her entire form as she dashed into the woods. It fractured no less than four times as the occasional curse crashed into her; the fifth one hit her just as she broke into the tree-line.

Alex fell to the ground with a grunt. Disoriented but otherwise fine, she got up. A simple _lumos_ helped her find her way through the woods as she carefully avoided tripping over any tree roots. Her guard remained up, her ears alert, so when she heard sniffling Alex immediately switched tracks and followed the noise.

A pair of girls were knelt by a particularly thick tree. They looked to be around thirteen-years-old, and tear tracks ran down their dirt-smudged faces.

"Are you all right?" Alex asked, lowering her wand to appear non-threatening.

The girls were so shaken that they barely even raised their own wands in response. The Asian one fired off something in a foreign language that might've been French, and then again in what Alex was sure was Vietnamese.

"She's English," her dark-skinned friend muttered. The lilt in her voice indicated she was also French.

"Do you know any healing spells?" asked the first girl. She nodded to her companion, who was nursing her ankle.

"I know a few," Alex admitted, kneeling down to help. She cancelled out her _lumos_ and conjured a jar of light for illumination in its stead. "May I?" she asked softly.

The other girl bit her lip before nodding. She lifted her hand away from her foot, and Alex instantly recognised the injury as a sprain.

 _Thank god._ "I sprained my foot once," she said casually as she worked out which of the healing spells best suited this particularly case. "This kid in my class kept calling me and my friend dirty and dark so I ran after him to make him eat dirt. His friend tripped me, though."

Alex brought her wand down in a diagonal line above the ankle. " _Episkey!"_

The wounded girl gasped, and for a horrible moment, Alex thought she had made things worse. "It's healed!" she said, amazed. She peered up at Alex with grateful eyes. "Thank you so much."

Alex smiled. "You're welcome. Now it's your turn," she informed the first girl.

"You noticed?" she wondered, eyebrows raised. Slowly she unfolded her arms, revealing the bloodied bit of her robes just beneath her ribs.

Her friend hissed. "Yvonne! Why didn't you say anything?"

Yvonne began to lift her shoulders into a careless shrug before wincing as pain undoubtedly sliced into her.

Alex hurried over before the dolt could stretch her gash open any wider. Carefully, she used the Cutting Charm on Yvonne's robes so she could access the wound. It was a clean cut, if indirect; a wayward spell cast by an idiot. Alex used the same spell as before and, once healed, she shed her bathrobe and gave it to Yvonne.

"I'm afraid I'm shite at clothing spells," she admitted, shoving the robe into the other girl's hands.

"I- thanks," she said lamely.

Alex opened her mouth to bid them goodbye when there was an explosion of green in the sky. The image of a colossal skull was projected into the sky in a haze of greenish smoke. Alex watched, eyes wide with horror, as the skull opened unhinged its jaw and a serpent slithered out like a gruesome tongue.

Yvonne cursed in Vietnamese. "The Dark Mark."

Her friend whimpered.

Alex had to go – immediately. She rushed towards the point of origin as screams erupted throughout the woods. In her blind panic, she didn't see the small figure directly in her path. Both of them yelped as they fell.

Good thing, too, because just then multiple red stunners came flying their way.

Alex could feel her heart in her throat. She waited a second, then another, before sitting up and casting another Shield Charm over herself. It was a feeble one, smaller and weaker than her last. Still, she had to hope it was enough.

"Can you fight?" she asked the house-elf she had knocked to the ground.

Big brown eyes peered up at her in shock. "Winky cannot—"

"Who's there?" barked an agitated voice. "Raise your hands and identify yourself!"

Alex winced as a bright _lumos_ blinded her. She blinked rapidly to adjust to the lighting. When her sight finally settled, she realised who the man holding the wand was.

"Mr Diggory?" she asked, baffled. She hadn't seen the man in _years_ – Cedric only invited her over whenever he was gone.

Recognition flickered through Mr Diggory's face. "You're my son's friend, are you not?" He must've reached some sort of conclusion, for his expression hardened. "What are you doing here at the scene of the crime?"

What, was he accusing her of casting the Dark Mark?

"No offense, Mr Diggory, but even if I was smart enough — or insane enough to have cast that," she said, glancing at the skull in the sky, "why would I still be here? I would have run off by now." Only a moron would stay and let themselves be caught red-handed.

"You'd be surprised," he replied, his wand still pointed at her. "Criminals slip up all the time."

Alex stared flatly at her friend's dad, distinctly unimpressed with his indictments.

"Amos!" called another voice. It was coming from wherever Mr Diggory had initially been. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes!" he called back, never leaving his eyes from Alex or the trembling house-elf latched onto her leg. "I've got two!"

Mr Diggory jutted his head to the side sharply. "C'mon, then," he said, urging them to head that way. "And no funny business."

 _This is outrageous_ , Alex seethed. She was out of viable options, though; she had to comply. Seeing how the house-elf could no longer cling onto her, Alex offered them support by holding their hand as they marched onwards, hyperaware of the wand pointed at her back. The gesture seemed to soothe the worst of their nerves, as they ceased to snivel so audibly – it also helped ground Alex by ensuring she kept her fury in check.

They reached a clearing filled with around ten wizards and witches altogether. To her surprise (and chagrined amusement) she recognised over half of them.

"What's up?" she said cavalierly as she locked eyes with Harry.

Hermione slapped a hand to her face, muffling her groan.

"Who are you?" demanded a man with greying hair. His toothbrush moustache jogged Alex's memory – right, he was Mr Crouch, the stern-faced man in the top box. She remembered him clearly due to the way Percy almost did a jig when Mr Crouch acknowledged him by name.

"Barty, no," protested Mr Weasley. "That's my son's friend. She came here with us."

"There was no one else there," said Mr Diggory from behind her. "No one but her and her elf."

Alex reared her head back in indignation. "I don't have an elf," she scoffed.

"Elf?" Mr Crouch lowered his gaze. Alex watched as shock washed away his scowl. "Why, that's…"

"She's yours, isn't she, Mr Crouch?" prompted Mr Weasley. "We saw her saving you a seat in the stadium."

Winky's hand began to shake in Alex's grip. Concerned, Alex gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"Merlin's beard," murmured Mr Diggory. "The elf has a wand."

"Hey!" Harry yelped in realisation. "That's my wand!"

"Why would a house-elf have your wand?" asked Mr Diggory, bewildered like the rest of them.

"I dropped it," he explained, taking half a step forward.

Mr Diggory pounced on that like a starving manticore. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"

"Really?" drawled Sirius. "You really think the Boy-Who-Lived conjured the Dark Mark?"

Alex was getting some serious flashbacks to her third year at school. _Enemies of the Heir,_ she thought wryly.

Judging by the look Hermione was sending her, she knew exactly what was on her mind.

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," continued Harry, jerking his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the woods."

"So," said Mr Diggory, peering down at Winky, "you found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" snarled Alex, whirling around to glare at the prick. "She's terrified!"

"Be quiet, girl."

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her tomato-like nose. "I is…I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" burst out Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry and Ron, appealing for their support.

Harry nodded. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," confirmed Ron with a harsh frown.

"Well, we'll soon see," muttered Mr Diggory. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Was he _enjoying_ this? Did he take pleasure from tormenting those with less power than himself?

Mr Diggory grabbed Harry's wand from Winky's loose grasp and performed _Prior Incantato_ , the Reverse Spell.

A smaller version of the serpent-tongued skulls materialised above the wands, except was made of grey smoke instead of the sickly green haunting the sky.

" _Deletrius_!" shouted Mr Diggory. The ghost-of-a-spell disappeared.

Winky shook violently beneath Mr Diggory's smug stare. "I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes widening in terror. "I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands!"

"You've been caught red-handed, elf! Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"

"It's not exactly a commonly known spell," interjected Sirius. He appeared about a second away from rolling his eyes in disdain. "Where, pray tell, do you think she could've learnt it? Or are you implying her master taught it to her?"

Mr Diggory swallowed audibly as Mr Crouch's thunderous glower landed on him. "Mr Crouch, I- I would never suggest such a thing," he muttered, flushed with embarrassment.

"Winky?" prodded Mr Weasley. "Where did you find Harry's wand?"

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers. She raised one shaky finger and pointed it at a copse of trees nearby.

"Did you see anyone?"

Winky's watery eyes wavered as she sought support from Mr Crouch. "I is seeing no one, sir…no one…"

 _That's a lie._ Alex stared at Winky, dumbfounded. What was she hiding? Who had she seen?

"Amos," said Mr Crouch curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

And then… And then he freed her, then and there in front of them all. Unlike with Dobby, Winky wanted anything but freedom. She threw herself at Mr Crouch's feet, wailing apologies and begging for forgiveness. Hermione tried to defend Winky's apparent disobedience, but Mr Crouch was having none of it.

With nothing left to be done, they left the clearing. Hermione continuously glanced back, no doubt concerned for Winky.

"People are the worst," Alex murmured sympathetically, nudging Hermione's arm with her own.

Hermione nodded listlessly.

"I don't understand," Ron was saying to his dad. "What's that mark?"

"The Dark Mark," said Alex. "It's You-Know-Who's symbol." She had heard of it extensively in those first few years of her new life.

Harry absently rubbed his scar. "So does that mean—?"

"No," Sirius said firmly. "Whoever cast it wasn't with the Death Eaters who started the riot. As soon as they saw the Mark, they disapparated."

A part of Alex was frustrated at the lack of anti-disapparation wards, but she supposed the aurors were too busy actually protecting everyone to think that far ahead.

 _Mum._ Alex's chest felt tight. As much as she wanted to go look for her, Alex knew Mr Weasley wasn't going to let her out of sight any time soon.

Sirius took the direct approach. He brought a fist down onto her head. "That's for rushing into things," he said, ignoring her squawk of surprise.

"Like you wouldn't have done the same," she harrumphed.

"True, but I would've brought my friends with me at least."

She stared at him. "Are you asking me to endanger your godson?"

He snorted. "Like he didn't try to follow you," he said in an undertone.

Alex shuddered at the thought of Harry running head first into the Death Eaters. They would've been overjoyed to toss him in the air like a marionette as they had with that muggle family.

It also could've been Hermione up there. Or Grant or Stephen or even herself, dressed in muggle pyjamas as she was.

Such thoughts plagued her for the rest of the night.


	31. Fifth Year

Chapter Thirty-One

 _Fifth Year_

The next morning, Alex walked off in search of a payphone. At Mrs Weasley's insistence she was accompanied by Sirius as their chaperone, so Harry volunteered to come with. Naturally, that meant his best mates and Ginny wanted to tag along too.

"There's a fellytone by the country road," said Ron as they left the Burrow.

It was a scorcher today, made bearable only thanks to the cooling charms Sirius and Mrs Weasley had cast on them. Harry welcomed the heat after the cold night they had yesterday. Everyone was dressed in mugglewear for this little side adventure, because although their chances of running into muggles were slim, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Ah, shit!" Alex yelped from over by the payphone. It must've been hot to the touch. She braced herself for a second before grabbing onto it and punching in the number lightning-quick.

"Can't imagine remembering all those numbers like that," Ron confessed in quiet amazement. "It was bad enough that one time I tried to call you, Harry, and that was even with the number written down."

"It's not that difficult," Hermione said, amused. Harry was glad to see her spirits were up; she had been down in the dumps after the Winky incident.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey, Mum. You okay? Yeah, I'm fine. Nah, I think I'll stay with the Weasleys. Yep. Okay. Yeah. Sure. Uh-huh." A pause, followed by another sigh, this time resigned. "Yes, I'll make sure to do so. Okay bye mum love you."

She wandered back to them, the furrow in her brow finally gone. It returned when someone in a passing car honked at her; she flipped them off.

"Is your mum okay?" asked Ginny as they began making their way back.

Alex nodded, yanking free a stalk of grass from the field they were wading through. "Nothing a few self-administered healing spells can't fix. She's just resting at home for today."

"I'm amazed the Ministry gave her a whole day off," said Sirius. "You'd think they'd need all hands on deck now."

"She was working all night," explained Alex. "Combing through the woods for any stragglers. Like…" She trailed off, her mind elsewhere.

They were all consumed by their thoughts now, no doubt reflecting on what had happened last night. Harry himself was thinking about that nightmare he had just two days ago—had it only been two?—with the two men, the faceless voice, and the giant snake.

He had to tell his mates about it, but maybe not out here in the open. He wasn't sure if Sirius approved of his intentions either.

"What's that?" asked Alex, her head craned as she stared into the distance.

They traced her line of sight to the woods on the edge of Ottery St Catchpole. What captured their attention, though, was two figures on broomsticks hovering over tops of the trees.

"What are they doing?" gasped Hermione. "They could be seen! We need to stop them!"

"Do we?" asked Ron. A punch to the shoulder courtesy of Hermione answered that question.

It was a bit of a walk, but eventually they reached the edge of the woods.

"Oi!" hollered Ginny, and Harry could tell she got it from her mum. She waved at the broom-riders wildly.

A man with shockingly white hair drifted down, and Harry almost assumed it was Mr Malfoy. But no, this man wore a serene smile on his face, not to mention his hair was shorter and fluffier - like a dandelion, actually.

"Hello," he said calmly. "Have you come to search for flapperblimps as well? Just make sure you haven't confused them with dapperblimps."

"Wouldn't dream of it," replied Alex, shooting him a winning smile. "I'm assuming Luna's up there too?"

"Oh, you know my Luna!" Mr Lovegood beamed at her. "Let me guess… Hm…" Rather than scrutinising her face, he stared at the spot just above Alex's head. "With an aura like that, you must be Alexandra Fortescue. Luna speaks of you all the time, you know. Let me tell her you're here."

Before Hermione could protest, Mr Lovegood shot back up into the sky. Harry was surprised such a, uh, dotty man could remain so stable on a broom like that.

"How'd you know he was Luna's dad?" he asked Alex. "Besides the hair." Lots of people had white hair, after all - Harry could name three from the top of his head.

"He's on the back of the Quibbler," replied Alex.

Ginny snort-laughed. "You read that?"

"I'm subscribed to it, actually."

"What's the Quibbler?" asked Hermione.

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Oh, wait til you see, it—"

"Hello, Alex," Luna Lovegood said, ever the picture of tranquillity even as she descended. "What brings you here?"

Hermione's nostrils flared. "You know of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, correct? Right, well, by flying your brooms in broad daylight like this, you run the risk of being spotted by muggles, which is a clear violation of Clause 38 of the law."

"Merlin's beard," Ron murmured in awe. "Did you memorise the entire Statute?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a tone that implied that the answer should've been obvious.

"That's nice," chirped Luna, "but there aren't any muggles around."

"You don't know that," countered Hermione, sounding about ready to throw down with the other girl. "A group of muggles drove by not too far from here, and they could've easily spotted you on your broom."

Luna tilted her head to side like a curious bird inspecting something strange. "They would rationalise it, though. We could look like bats or bugs or kites to them."

Hermione puffed up as she took in a big breath of air. Harry recognised it as a sign that she was revving up for a good, long argument. Not wanting to stand out here in the summer sun and endure all that, Harry intervened.

"Maybe Disillusion yourselves," he suggested with a shrug.

A faint whining sound could be heard from Mr Lovegood's person. He dug through the pockets of his psychedelic robes and pulled out a fob watch, the source of the noise. When he pressed his thumb against the button on the top, the clock-face fell open and a cuckoo bird flew out and up into the sky.

"Ah, it's noon," he declared, checking his odd watch. "Lunchtime. Would you lot care to join us?"

"We're fine," Hermione said just as Alex began to nod.

"I'm down," she told Mr Lovegood, ignoring Hermione's warning look. "You guys can go back."

Harry turned to Sirius, the only responsi— the only adult in their group. "Sounds good," he declared, clapping his hands together. "I have somewhere I need to be anyway."

"You sure you trust him?" Harry asked lowly as they made their back to the Burrow.

Sirius nodded. "I know of Xenophilius – he's a good bloke, if a little barmy."

"He passed that on to his daughter," commented Ginny. "People call her Loony Lovegood."

"I can see why," Hermione muttered. She bit her lip as though ashamed of her response.

"Weird how she and Alex are such good mates, though," mused Harry as he batted away a fly.

"Please," snorted Ron. "She'd befriend a sentient broom if she could."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

* * *

"Luna," Alex said as they reached the Lovegood house, "your home is the single most amazing thing I've ever seen."

The Lovegoods resided in a _castle -_ of sorts. It was a single tower shaped like one of those common chess pieces. What were they called again? Whatever, she'd ask Ron later.

The hopped over the broken-down gate with a sign tacked onto it declaring the property as one pertaining to the _Editor of the Quibbler_ and followed the zigzag path to the front door. The Lovegood front garden was composed of a mishmash of flowers of varying sizes and colours, some magical and some non-magical.

"We can make flower crowns later," promised Luna as her father unlocked the front door.

"Cool."

Due to the cylindrical nature of their home, each floor was composed a single, spacious room. The entrance opened up into a brightly coloured kitchen with a mural spanning one side. The other was painted with curious creatures that she bet belonged to the Lovegoods' vivid imaginations.

In the middle of the kitchen was a wrought-iron staircase which lead to Mr Lovegood's room. Luna explained it doubled as his workspace, and indeed, there was a printing press; on the shelf atop it was a bust of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Was your dad a Ravenclaw?" Alex asked as they moved up into Luna's room.

Luna nodded. "My mum, too. It's how they met."

Alex couldn't help but notice the conspicuous absence of Mrs Lovegood. Though she wanted to ask, Grant's brooding face popped up in her head whenever the question crossed her mind. Speaking of which…

"Have you spoken to Duncan or Grant recently?" she asked, absently taking in Luna's room. It was surprisingly plain - well, compared to the kitchen, anyway. "Did they go to the World Cup?"

"Grant went with Duncan's family," replied Luna as she toyed with one of the silver magical bubbles floating in her room. "I think it was his first time meeting the parents."

"Wait. They're an item? Since when?" Alex furrowed her brow in thought as she tried to recollect any obvious tells.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "Since always?"

"I mean, they have heaps of chemistry, and the flirt from time to time. I just never knew they made it official."

Having lost interest in the topic, Luna moved on with a shrug. She laid down on the pale blue carpet, inviting Alex to do the same. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky outside; they cloud-watched for a few minutes before Alex remembered Luna had also been at the game.

She turned to Luna and propped herself up on her elbow. "You saw the riot, right?"

But Luna shook her head. "Our Seer warned us beforehand something disastrous would take place during the first half-moon of August."

"Damn," murmured Alex. "I should start consulting Seers."

"I'm taking Divination as an elective this year," Luna informed her brightly. "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Alex laughed. "I'll be sure to seek you out," she promised her.

After a wholesome lunch made of ingredients from the Lovegood garden, Mr Lovegood apparated her back to the Burrow where they had just finished their own tea. With a very unsubtle gesture, Harry encouraged Ron, Hermione and Alex to follow them into the room he was sharing with Ron. Alex cast a sympathetic look to Ginny, who was fuming at being left behind.

As soon as they all filed in, Harry closed the door behind them. Inhaling deeply, he turned to face them.

"I had a nightmare the other night. It… It was about Voldemort."

Hermione and Ron gasped, and belatedly Alex wondered if she should have too.

"Like, a nightmare?" she asked instead. It wasn't unusual for someone to be haunted by the thoughts of their parents' murderer. Merlin, what a messed-up thought that was. Sometimes she forgot how tragic Harry's past truly was.

Harry shook his head impatiently. "This wasn't just something my mind made up; it was a- a vision of sorts." Briefly he recounted the dream to them. "They were plotting to kill someone."

One guess as to who that someone was.

"It was only a dream," Ron reminded them weakly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't say his name," hissed Ron.

"What did Sirius say?" asked Hermione plausibly.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing much."

She pursed her lips, dissatisfied.

They were silent for a contemplative moment before Ron asked, "Quidditch?"

Since they were far enough from the muggle part of the village, Harry agreed. Alex got up to join them.

Hermione was gobsmacked. "You're playing, Alex?"

"Oh, no," laughed Alex. "I just wanna practise my flying." Her Firebolt was shrunken and tucked away in her luggage in the girls' room.

Hermione shuddered. Out of the four of them, she was the worst flyer. "Go," she said upon noticing Alex's hesitation. "I want to get started on my schoolwork anyway."

"Shame you don't have more _time_ ," Alex said, smirking.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

* * *

Every year on the first train ride to Hogwarts, the prefects were made to congregate at the second carriage from the front. A specially designed carriage, it was split into two large compartments: one for teachers, and one for students with badges.

Impeded as she was by her peers, Alex wound up the last to arrive to the prefects meeting.

The head boy, a sour-faced lad from Gryffindor, gave her an unfriendly grin when she slid open the door. "Glad you could finally join us, Fortescue."

Not wanting to flip off someone with the power to inconvenience her, Alex threw a peace sign his way.

Cedric coughed to hide his snort of laughter.

Ravenclaw's head girl didn't bother disguising her amused smile. "We were just about to start," she said.

Alex thanked her with a smile and took the closest seat by the door.

"Welcome to prefects new and old," she continued. "And congratulations on receiving your badge of honour. Please ensure you wear it at all times; it's what grants you the ability to reward or punish your peers."

A Hufflepuff prefect raised her hand. "What if someone steals our badge?"

"Good question—" The head girl stretched out the word until she got a name.

"Mya Hoorne."

"Okay, Mya, even if someone takes it, if they're not recognised as a prefect on the list in Dumbledore's office, the badge will be rendered useless until it returns to its proper owner."

"Wicked," muttered a Ravenclaw prefect to Alex's right.

The head girl proceeded once no other hands flew up. "Let's introduce ourselves," she said with a clap of her hands. "I'm Aisha Saamir, Ravenclaw, head girl."

"Head boy. Mason Johanovic. Gryffindor."

They continued around the circular table. Other than Cedric and Zubair—her Slytherin partner—this was Alex's first time meeting everyone else. To her disappointment, she didn't recognise any of the other fifth-year prefects.

After Alex finished introducing herself, Mason began listing off the rules and roles of prefects. Once every two nights, they were to patrol the castle with their prefect partner. They were allowed to swap shifts and even partners if need be but were discouraged from doing so to prevent any unnecessary confusion. They all had copies of the schedule, which were controlled by the head prefects; once they updated it, their parchments would change automatically.

As it turned out, Alex had the first shift for the train patrols. Judging by Mason's smirk, it was no coincidence, either. Due to the simplicity of the job, prefects patrolled the train without their partner. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zubair grin.

Dismissed, they filed out of the carriage. Alex went ahead with a wave to Cedric; she'd talk to him later.

On her patrol, she caught more than one couple snogging, and almost threw up both times. A few kids were actually brawling, and she was tempted to let them continue to teach them a lesson about fighting in enclosed spaces, but there was one innocent bystander pressed up against his seat and trying to wiggle his way out to no avail. Sighing, Alex slammed open the door, startling them enough to cause them to snap out of it.

She crossed her arms, scowling. "If you want to hurt yourselves this badly, I can lend you a hand," she said, tapping her wand against her elbow.

She waited for the boys to nod apprehensively before making her way through the train again. She stopped to show off her badge to Ginny and Neville, who were in their own compartment with a few other Gryffindors. "Such a great role model," Ginny said, pretending to fawn over her. Alex rolled her eyes and laughed before moving along. She greeted several Slytherins with a polite nod before waving happily at Luna, Grant and Duncan.

But it was the trio's reactions that truly entertained her.

"Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron," she heard Hermione say through the opening of their compartment.

"Him! Get to me? As if!" said Ron, his voice high-pitched with false bravado.

"Well," began Alex, opening the door further, "if he does, let me know. I'll put Malfoy in his place."

Harry peered at her curiously. "How d'you mean?"

She smirked and fished out the badge from the pocket of her jacket. "Guess who made Slytherin prefect," she said smugly.

They gazed at the silver-and-green badge almost reverently. "Oh, Alex," gushed Hermione, "congratulations!"

"Yes!" breathed Ron. "Think of all the ways you can punish Malfoy!"

"Your parents must be so proud," said Hermione, eyeing the badge hungrily.

"Yeah, I guess," she said vaguely. Dad had been pretty thrilled, and Mum managed to muster her leftover energy to congratulate her. She was always working overtime these days, and it was showing.

"Is that what you were doing all morning?" Harry asked, nodding to the badge she was tucking away.

She nodded. "Prefects' meeting. The head girl and boy were inaugurating us. Being prefect's such a hassle," she sighed, grabbing another chocolate. "We have to patrol the hallways at night, patrol the corridors of the train, show the first-years to the dorm…"

"Why not just quit?" asked Hermione, though the look on her face was severely disapproving.

"Because we have our own bathroom," she said, straightening with excitement. "I hear it's amazing." Probably no more amazing than the bathrooms the Room of Requirement conjured for her, though. At least she could stop peering over her shoulder when heading to the prefects' bathroom.

"Where is it?" asked Ron, his eyes alight with interest.

"Sorry, Ron, but we aren't allowed to share the bathroom with others," said Alex, frowning lightly. "Otherwise our privileges will be revoked."

"Aw," he whined, "c'mon. How would they even find out?"

She shrugged. There were eyes all over the castle. Despite the vastness of the place, privacy was a foreign concept at Hogwarts.

Alex planned on joining her Gryffindor mates once she wrapped up her patrol, but then Cedric ambushed her.

"We need to talk," he said, stepping back so she could enter his compartment.

Alex hesitantly accepted his invitation. "Uh, there's someone in here," she pointed. It was one of Cedric's mates, a guy in his House and year.

"Mike is deaf," clarified Cedric. "And he promised not to lip-read."

Mike waved cheerily at them before pointedly peering out the window.

That settled, Alex sat down across from Cedric. "What's up?" she asked, but she had an inkling as to what this was about.

"So my dad ran into you at the World Cup. Said something about you casting the Dark Mark?" he said sardonically.

Alex's lips twitched in amusement. "I don't even know the spell," she told him. "No offence, Ced, but your dad was a bit unhinged that night."

Cedric winced. "Can you not? He can be a little... but he's my dad."

"He made a house-elf cry, Cedric," she replied flatly. You'd have to be a grade-A piece of shit to do something like that. "And he branded me a criminal almost instantly."

Resigned, Cedric sighed. "I'm sorry about that. He's always been overzealous when it comes to work. If it makes you feel any better, my mum chewed him out once she found out. I wouldn't talk to him for a solid day."

Alex smiled slightly. "Thanks for the solidarity, mate."

"My pleasure," he responded with a small grin. "He tried to make it up to me by telling me about the Triwizard Tournament – your mum's told you about it, right?"

Her stomach twisted at the horrid reminder. "My dad, actually," she murmured. "He knows everything about everyone, almost. Helps my mum with her job a good amount."

"Don't tell anyone," he began, grey eyes bright with excitement, "but I plan on entering."

"People have died," she said immediately, the words falling out of her mouth helplessly. "That's the reason it was stopped in the first place, because of the body count." Magical nations all over the world had tried their hand at reinstating it with little success.

"It's bullshit," she continued, on a roll now. "As if Hogwarts needs to invite danger to our doorstep. Something happens literally every year – why tempt the fates? It's like Dumbledore enjoys endangering our lives."

"What happened last year?" asked Cedric, frowning. "I mean, Professor Lupin was a werewolf, but he never hurt anyone."

Alex shook her head to avoid explaining herself. "Promise me you won't enter," she pleaded. "If you get hurt, if you die…"

But Cedric wouldn't take her words to heart. "It'll be fine," he assured her. "Dumbledore's the greatest wizard of the century. There's no way he'll let anything happen."

She rolled her eyes. "He's a man, Cedric, not a god. Why are you so keen to enter anyhow? Are all quidditch players naturally jeopardy friendly?"

Cedric's expression tightened. "I…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "The prize is a thousand galleons."

Oh. Alex leaned back in her seat, stunned. While the Diggorys weren't loaded, they weren't struggling, either – at least, they didn't appear to be. But only fools accepted everything at face value.

Her frustration at Cedric's circumstances cooled down as resolve replaced it instead.

"All right," she said, straightening in her seat. "If that's how it is."

The sight of Cedric's grateful smile only amplified the screams inside her head.

* * *

When they reached Hogsmeade station, Alex declined Cedric's offer to sit with him and his mates and branched off to join her roommates. Alex ignored the protests of indignation behind her as she cut in line and joined Agatha and Katherine at the front of the line for the thestral-drawn carriages.

"Did you know?" was the first thing she asked as soon the thestrals began moving.

"Know what?" asked Katherine, blank-faced, while Agatha glanced at her shoes.

"Don't play dumb," hissed Alex. "The riot. Did you two know that was going to happen?"

"Honestly, no," replied Katherine, frowning. "We were warned something was going to go down, but not what."

Alex nodded, satisfied with Katherine's answer; she wasn't in the habit of telling lies. "Agatha?"

"I tried to warn you," insisted Agatha, her fists clenched in her lap. "When you wandered to our tent… If you hadn't left when you did…"

Katherine sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

"Were your parents wearing masks that night?" Alex asked through clenched teeth.

Agatha didn't reply, which was an answer in itself.

"Unbelievable," Alex muttered, shaking her head scornfully.

The rest of the carriage ride continued in stiff silence. When the thestrals came to a stop, Alex hopped off the cart and walked into the castle without so much as a glance back. Though she longed to sit on a different table tonight, the weight of her prefect badge pinned to her front served as a reminder of her responsibility to her House now. To keep up appearances, she sat with the other Slytherin fifth-years, but didn't offer much besides a half-hearted greeting. Frankly, she wasn't sure who she could trust in this House of Snakes.

"Merlin's beard," Jacob whispered, his gaze focused on the teachers' table. "Is that Mad-Eye Moody?"

"Wow." Zubair tapped his chin in thought. "Is that who the new Defence professor is? Dumbledore isn't taking any chances this year, is he?"

"Think his choice was affected by the World Cup?"

"Maybe," murmured Zubair. "Maybe."

Mad-Eye Moody was an auror notorious for his crudeness which was matched only by his reputation as one of the most successful in the department. He was virtually untouchable despite—or perhaps due to—his brutally effective methods, and had made the front page of several editorials frequently in the years following Voldemort's supposed demise. He was personally responsible for imprisoning more than a few relatives of her Housemates.

As angry as they were, though, Alex was confident no one would mess with him. His grisly appearance wasn't just for show, after all, not to mention his Mad-Eye could spot anything up to a mile away.

Alex watched this year's Sorting with a sharper eye than usual. There were only six new Slytherins: three boys and three girls. They were an even mix of pure- and half-bloods, but although none of them were of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Still, she had to try and set them straight before they could become traditionalists like so many of their Housemates were.

She was in the middle of composing a speech in her head when the feast ended. Alex tuned Dumbledore out when he began his annual speech with general admin and only tuned back in when he informed everyone quidditch was cancelled for the year.

There was a shout of protest from the Gryffindor table, followed by discontented murmurs around the hall. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in dissatisfaction, though as to whether it was in response to the quidditch decision or the students' reactions, Alex wasn't sure.

Dumbledore held up two hands in a silent gesture to get everyone to shut the hell up. It worked like magic. "Now, allow me to explain why."

He smiled down benignly at the sea of students hanging onto each and every word. "We are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

The headmaster went onto a give a brief rundown on the history of the tournament. At the mention of what sorts of rewards would be reaped by the winner—money, fame, glory, etc.—students turned their rapt attention from Dumbledore to murmur comments to their friends.

"I'm in," Jacob declared.

"I'll be sure to attend your funeral," replied Zubair. No wonder he made prefect as well.

"Before you start envisioning yourselves as the Hogwarts champion," interjected Dumbledore, "I must warn you, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Initially we had planned to maintain the limit at seventeen to exclude underage students. However," he continued, overriding the chatter, "after much conference, it was decided that it would be unfair for those who would never get a chance to participate in the Tournament, which occurs every few years. Moreover, if the impartial judge deems a witch or wizard as worthy, age should not be a barrier."

Alex deliberately glued her gaze to the front even as she noticed Draco's meaningful glance in her direction. Not only did she not want to make their little deal obvious, she wasn't in the mood to indulge any Death Eater children tonight. No doubt his parents, like Agatha's, were in the thick of things the night of the World Cup.

"As such," continued Dumbledore, and the air was practically vibrating with anticipation now, "the Triwizard Tournament is open to those who are thirteen and over."

The ensuing silence was almost deafening as people digested the weight of Dumbledore's words. It was nothing compared to the clamour that followed, each individual voice lost as everyone rejoiced and announced their intention to compete.

Alex, meanwhile, was lost in her own thoughts. Cedric's chances at competing had shrunken considerably, but not completely. While there was the chance someone could beat him in the running, Alex wasn't sure if she could live with the fact that she had basically sent another one of her peers to an early grave just to save Cedric.

There was only one thing to it, then.

She was just going to have to win the Triwizard Tournament.


	32. Responsibility

Chapter Thirty-Two

 _Responsibility_

Most prefects, Alex knew, weren't very invested in the kids sorted into their Houses during their first year with the badge. This wasn't purely out of apathy-although that was definitely a contributing factor-but also because there was this unspoken rule at Hogwarts where you basically had to carve your own path and navigate the school yourself. You had to draw the lines between friend and enemy, discover who your allies were, and rely on them to survive. That was the brutal reality of boarding school no one ever really told you about.

So Alex did. After the Sorting Feast, she gathered the first-years around her and made them sit in a circle in the corner of the common room. Taking inspiration from the prefects meeting in the train, she introduced herself as their fifth-year prefect and pointed out Zubair, who waved at them from the other side of the room.

"Alright," she said once they were done. "What do you think this House stands for?"

"Pride," replied Sasha Park, and honestly, that wasn't what Alex had been expecting.

"Ambition," volunteered Malcolm Baddock.

Then came the answer she'd been waiting for. "Blood purity," sniffed Janet Doolan.

Alex smirked lazily. "Then half of us wouldn't even be here, unless half-bloods fall under the umbrella of purity."

Some of the firsties shifted in discomfort; Rachel Falero sat up, her eyes bright with attentiveness.

Was it bad that Alex already had a favourite?

"Don't get me wrong," she continued blithely. "Our founder, Salazar Slytherin, loathed muggles – but that was because of the witch-hunts that were so prevalent back then. Muggles had the power to harm us, but now the tables have turned. We have not only the ability to hurt them, but to kill and maim and torture them, and sometimes they're none the wiser."

The muggle family from the World Cup sprung to mind. They had been obliviated to hell and back following the riots, and while Mr Weasley assured them they'd be right as rain in a few days' time, Alex remained sceptical.

Malcolm was smiling now, as though gratified by the power they could wield over unsuspecting muggles. She levelled him with a sombre look.

"Put yourselves in their shoes." Alex subtly palmed her wand. "They could be incapacitated"—she cursed him with a Half-Body Bind that restricted movement in his arms and legs—"or humiliated"—he burped out a butterfly—"or just generally thrown into confusion." The colour of Malcolm's robes changed colours, flashing through the entire rainbow before being returned to its usual shade of black. With another flick of her wrist, he regained feeling in his arms and legs once more.

"So don't you dare use fear as a basis to hate muggles," she said with a harsh glare at each of her charges. "We're neither superior or inferior to muggles." The witch hunts of the past were proof of that. "We're just different."

Now that that was done, Alex allowed some warmth back into her disposition. "I got pushed around a bit when I was your age, and I don't want the same thing to happen to you. If you have any questions or concerns, ask me or any of the other prefects."

Alric Vytiaco leaned forward in his seat. "Will you be entering the Triwizard Tournament?" he asked almost breathlessly.

She laughed softly. "If you have any _relevant_ questions, seek me out. Otherwise, go explore your dorms."

Zubair approached once the firsties reluctantly got up from their seats. "Nice demonstration," he said, lounging across a sofa. "Makes you wish our cohort received a similar speech in our first year."

The Shafiqs, although technically labelled as a pureblood family, were mostly composed of half-bloods. That set-up actually wasn't too uncommon; the Malfoys similarly married half-bloods several generations in a row to avoid practising incest. Unlike the Malfoys, though, the Shafiqs weren't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight of pureblood society and weren't particularly vocal about anti-muggle rights either.

She had a feeling Zubair himself didn't care for the vitriol the more outspoken members of their House liked to espouse.

"I'm not sure our cohort needs a wake-up call so much as the year below us does," replied Alex. Her eyes darted to where Draco and Pansy were flirting with each other.

Zubair made a show of shuddering visibly. "Easily the worst bunch in our House. Let's take care to ensure this year's firsties don't end up as prattish."

"Agreed."

* * *

Being a prefect was more tiresome than Alex had anticipated. It wasn't just the patrols or the occasional point-taking she was forced to do – it was playing parent and mediator for the first years beneath her charge. Yeah, she had told them to come to her if they needed help, but she hadn't meant _every day._

If they weren't lost, they were homesick. If they weren't struggling with classes, they had trouble making friends. At least there wasn't any overt bullying going on – none that she knew of, at any rate. Alex tried her best to accommodate all their needs, but there was only so much she could do as a student four years their senior.

Fifth year at Hogwarts was notorious for being known as O.W.L. year. Their end of year exams were the most important to date, determining not only what N.E.W.T. classes you could take and, in a majority of cases, even what your future would look like.

So it made sense why some fifth-years were freaking out this early. Except Hermione wasn't a fifth-year.

"O.W.L.s certainly are daunting, aren't they?" she asked, sounding exasperated as she joined Alex in the library.

"I think they're rather cute myself," Alex responded noncommittally. She was presently reviewing Hagrid's lesson plans for next month, which were only slightly less questionable than the ones from last year.

Hermione frowned in disapproval. "You should really be focusing on your own studies."

The irony of her words didn't miss Alex. She looked up from her papers to raise an eyebrow at her fourth-year friend.

"Exams are ages away," Alex continued once Hermione grew flustered upon realising the hypocrisy of her statement. "Besides, Cedric gave me his notes from last year. The exams don't really change much."

"Seems a bit dishonest," admitted Hermione. She was trying her best to keep from making her judgement obvious, and for that Alex was grateful.

"So you're saying you don't want my notes after?"

Before Hermione could reply, Stephen swooped into the empty seat on their table and said, "If she doesn't want them, I do."

Alex rolled her eyes. This was why she liked her secluded table, so people would stop seating with her. Unfortunately, it had been taken when she got there; she was forced to use a more accessible one instead.

"Hermione, you know Stephen, yeah?" Alex asked, nodding at her Ravenclaw mate.

Hermione nodded. "He, um, almost got burnt by a dragon toad in Hagrid's class the other day."

" _Almost_ being the prerogative here," said Stephen.

Alex pulled a complicated face. "You're not gonna get one, are you?"

Over the summer, she had learnt that Stephen's household had more animals than people. In addition to their literal reptile room, they had a dog, a cat, two birds, a fish pond, and some hamsters. What was even more surprising was how loaded his family was - his house was larger than hers, the Weasleys' and the Lovegoods' homes _combined._

"Nah," replied Stephen. "No magical pets allowed in our house."

"Not even owls?" asked Hermione.

"Can owls be considered magical though? I mean, they're just owls."

"There's a distinct difference between magical and non-magical owls. You see—"

Alex blocked out that enlightening discussion rather quickly. She wondered if she should be concerned by this newfound companionship between her most Gryffindorish Ravenclaw friend and her most Ravenclaw-like Gryffindor friend.

She zeroed back in on the conversation when the topic turned to their latest Defence professor. Mad-Eye Moody's infamy grew a tad larger after his lessons with the Unforgivables, and Alex was certain more than a few complaints would be directed to and from the Hogwarts Board of Governors after this month.

"He's positively insane," huffed Hermione. She tugged on one of her dark strands of hair. "No one in their right mind should be casting Unforgivables on schoolchildren, even if it is for educational purposes."

"Yeah," murmured Stephen, frowning distantly. "My sister was pretty messed up after that lesson."

Alex inhaled sharply. "Even the younger years went through it?"

At Stephen's nod of confirmation, Alex grabbed some parchment from her bag and began scribbling away furiously.

"What are you writing?" inquired Hermione.

"Letter," she replied. "To my mum." She needed to find out all she could on Mad-Eye Moody.

"You've had your first lesson with him, yeah?" said Stephen when she paused to read over her writing. "How'd you go?"

Alex shrugged. Her class had been one of the last to have a lesson with Moody, so they hadn't been caught off guard like their peers. Still, foreknowledge did little to prepare them for the shock of witnessing all the Unforgivables in action like that.

Of the three of them, Agatha had the worst reaction. Her hands trembled when the Cruciatus was being cast and flinched violently once it had died from the Killing Curse. Katherine, who was seated in front of Alex, reached for Agatha's hand to steady her.

"It's just a spider," she had muttered. But her flimsy reassurance had fallen flat in the face of the tautness around her eyes.

Alex had scowled, infuriated not at them but _for_ them. She understood that it was important to be exposed to the Unforgivables in a controlled environment, and taught how to circumvent them, especially given the thunderous incident that went down right before the start of term. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

After the spider had curled up and died, Moody glanced up to take in their reactions. His asymmetrical gaze lingered longer on some students, his expression impassive. His scarred face twitched, however, when he took in her glower. She spent a good while puzzling over that but couldn't figure out whether he was amused or intrigued by her. Either way, she left the class feeling significantly discomfited, particularly due to Moody's insistence on attempting to _Imperio_ her until he was successful.

"I threw off the Imperius," she said in answer to Stephen's question. She knew that was the response he was fishing for.

Stephen appeared impressed. "No one in my class did."

"Harry was successful," Hermione informed them, looking both proud and vexed. "After the first attempt, too."

Alex sighed softly. To her knowledge, the only students to have thrown off the Imperius were herself and Harry. No doubt people were going to make weird comparisons between the abilities of herself and the Boy-Who-Lived. Well, she supposed it was going to happen sooner or later, what with the impending commencement of the Triwizard Tournament.

The constant stream of drizzly days finally broke in late October just before the arrival of the other schools. Lessons ended half an hour early in anticipation of their appearance, and not only were people speculating on their means of transportation, they couldn't stop discussing the tournament either.

 _It's a death trap!_ Alex wanted to scream at them. It'd do more harm than good, though, so she secluded herself from the cacophony by retreating to the less frequented parts of the castle.

Professor Galing peered at her through narrowed eyes as Alex made her way towards her portrait. "You aren't here to see if we need another cleaning, are you?"

Alex raked her gaze over the amass of paintings lining the wall. "You all look pretty spick and span," she concluded. It seemed no corner of the castle was being left unscrubbed in preparation for the visiting schools.

"Honestly," began the old History professor with a roll of her eyes, "I don't understand all the fuss with the Tournament. It's brought nothing but trouble to this castle."

"How do you mean?"

The professor put on quite a show of seeming burdened by Alex's curiosity, but really, they both knew she was always down for a chat. Not only did she know of the historical facts of the tournament, she had witnessed—or at least heard of—a good deal of them as both a witch and a portrait, so she was privy to some lesser known details that fleshed out her recounts.

In addition to the lost lives and limbs, drama was always bound to happen when three schools with different cultures and politics were placed in the same space for an extended period of time.

"Why, one time, a colleague of mine was caught having an affair with the headmaster of Beauxbatons!" exclaimed Professor Galing.

"Scandalous," said Alex, grinning.

"What's even more scandalous is the amount of cheating and sabotage that goes on behind the scenes. Oh, sure, there are rules and regulations to prevent malpractice, but really, no one bothers enforcing them, no matter how blatant the infractions are." She shook her head in disdain. "Not to mention all the trouble the Yule Ball causes!"

 _Mule ball?_ asked a voice in her head that sounded a suspicious amount like Duncan.

Professor Galing went on griping about the ball, which was essentially a dance that occurred on Christmas day whenever the triumvirate came together. The champions paired up with a partner of their choice and then _danced_ in front of everyone. The mere thought had Alex shuddering in disgust.

"I'm glad to see you agree," proclaimed the professor.

Alex nodded, well aware of the fact that she couldn't show her face down here for a good while until the tournament ended. Despite the professor's countless warnings, Alex was still going to enter - and win. There were lives at stake after all.

Once it was almost half-past six, Alex bid Professor Galing farewell and made her way towards the Great Hall. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations would've arrived by now, no doubt in each of their own flamboyant ways. Alex had no interest in crowding around outside the castle in the cold with the rest of the school in a bid for a quick glance of their dramatic entrance. Judging by Professor Galing's descriptions, it wasn't anything worth waiting for anyway.

Most students were already seated in the hall by the time she got there. It was specially decorated tonight, with symbolic banners strewn above each table to represent the four Houses. Behind the staff table was an enormous silk banner bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large H.

 _How cute,_ Alex thought derisively as she took a seat at the end of the table. This time, no one found it out of place for her to be sitting with the first-years of her House.

Across from her, Janet was pouting up a storm. Out of the six Slytherin firsties, she was perhaps the most childish of them all. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing; in fact, it was rather refreshing at times. Alex wished they could all be as unburdened as she was.

"What's wrong?" she asked, unable to help the amused inflection in her voice.

"Professor Snape told her to get rid of her hair accessory," answered Graham Pritchard. Like Harry, he was a half-blood raised in a muggle environment – except he didn't let anyone give him shit for his background, having decked Malcolm the first time he dared to degrade him.

"No," refuted Janet. "His exact words were: _Remove that ridiculous decoration from your head before I remove it for you._ Why? Are butterflies offensive to the other schools?"

"Collective lepidopterophobia," Rachel murmured thoughtfully.

"Lepido-wha?" said Malcolm, bewildered.

Alex ignored them in favour of returning her attention to Sasha. "May I see the accessory?" she asked her.

No longer pouting, Sasha withdrew a simple hair-tie from the pocket of her robes; a yellow-and-orange butterfly was attached to the elastic. The butterfly was charmed to flap its plastic wings slowly, reminding Alex of one of those cheap muggle toys salespeople tried to peddle to parents of spoiled children.

 _Let's see…_ Alex inspected the butterfly, turning it this way and that as she thought about what she was about to do. It was going to take a lot of spellwork, but nothing she couldn't handle. That decided, Alex tapped the tip of her wand against the fake butterfly.

With a magnificent shake of its wings, the butterfly detached itself from the band and drifted towards Sasha. Before she could reach for it, the butterfly multiplied so that there was an entire flock of them. The yellow-and-orange bugs fluttered around and over her head before unanimously turning into sunflowers, which gently floated down and weaved themselves into Sasha's black hair.

Alex smiled at Sasha's look of amazement as she placed her wand back in its holster and subtly wiped her sweaty forehead. She flexed her wand-hand, which was beginning to cramp after all that waving and flicking.

Not wanting to meet any of her Housemates' probing gazes at the moment, Alex took the time to glance around the room. The last of the visiting students were settling into their seats around the Great Hall; there were pockets of blue and red as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students interspersed themselves randomly between the four tables. While most of them were drawn to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor—likely due to the similar colourings of their robes—a good amount of Durmstrang students were sharing the table with her Housemates.

Wait. Was that Viktor Krum?

Alex bit her lip to keep from gasping once she determined the dark-but-sallow student conversing with Draco was none other than Bulgaria's seeker. Well, to be fair, Draco was doing most of the talking, while Viktor nodded here and there and threw in the occasional reply.

She felt bad for the poor guy. Of all the Slytherins to sit next to, he had to wind up beside the most obnoxious of them all.

The Beauxbatons students leapt out of their seats and into standing positions as the staff filed into the hall. Despite the snickers at their odd behaviour, the students dressed in silk robes maintained their stance, their respectful gazes remaining glued to a gigantic woman whose size rivalled that of Hagrid's.

Someone further up the Slytherin table snorted. "Can you imagine standing for Dumbledore like that?" they said, voicing exactly what they were all thinking.

Once all the staff were seated, the Beauxbatons students sat back down. The man on Dumbledore's right appeared disgruntled, even offended, by the clear display of deference. No doubt he was Igor Karkaroff, the head of Durmstrang Institute – and suspected Death Eater. Like Dumbledore, he was tall and thin, but his white hair was cut short like his goatee, which had a funny little curl at the end. For some reason, he reminded her of a goat. A mean, genocidal goat.

Hm. No wonder so many of his students had made a beeline for the Slytherin table.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," greeted Dumbledore as he beamed at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw a few Beauxbatons students share sardonic smirks.

 _Leave, then._ She seethed internally.

"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," continued Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

* * *

In the end, the Goblet of Fire was a bit of a let-down. Alex had been expecting a golden cup encrusted in jewels, not the rough wooden thing sitting atop the ancient casket it came in. The goblet would've been totally unremarkable were it not for the blue-white flames it held.

The goblet was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. No one knew when or why or who had created it, except that it hadn't been in the last century and perhaps not even the one before. The flames were inextinguishable, and though the goblet was sentient enough to act as an impartial judge, it wasn't foolproof either.

At least the golden Age Line Dumbledore had seared into the floor did its job at keeping the younger students away. None of the first- or second-years had dared to try their hands at it when everyone was still in the hall, instead waiting it out until everyone had left. Of those legible to compete, a good amount actually submitted their names right after Dumbledore had dismissed them for the night, apparently heedless of the dangers the tournament posed. Alex had a feeling none of them were going to selected anyway.

The invisibility cloak rustled softly as Alex glanced at her watch. She had borrowed it from Harry weeks ago just for tonight. Like a good friend, he had handed it to her easily enough, but not without asking why. Prepared for his curiosity, Alex had claimed it was for prefect patrols.

Midnight had come and gone. Alex had been in the Great Hall for the past two hours, having waited until her roommates had fallen asleep before sneaking out. Fortunately, another student had been leaving the common room at the time and had been heading for the goblet himself. He hadn't even bothered concealing himself, perhaps emboldened by the knowledge that others would be breaking curfew anyway tonight.

In the time Alex had been keeping an eye on the goblet, over twenty people had entered their names. Curiously enough, they were all Hogwarts students. Some tried putting in more than one slip for themselves, but the goblet simply spat the parchment back out at them. Alex almost revealed herself by laughing when she saw that.

She only recognised a handful of the entrants, and fewer still by name. To her chagrin, Malcolm and Rachel had both tried skirting the Age Line by levitating their parchment into the goblet. To their collective surprise, a transparent golden barrier had flickered into existence when the parchment came close to the Age Line, preventing their papers from coming close to the goblet.

Afterwards, the amount of people trickling into the hall had declined dramatically. Satisfied with her snooping, Alex rose from her cross-legged position on the floor and approached the goblet.

She peered down at the blue-white flames, momentarily entranced by their delicate dance now that she was so close to it. It was almost hypnotic, really. Alex felt her eyes grow heavy; she closed them briefly, the parchment in her hand crinkling slightly as she clenched it.

 _Please,_ she begged silently. _Please choose me over the others._

As she opened her eyes, the anxiety that had been bubbling away all night finally settled. Feeling oddly calm, Alex moved her arm through the opening of the cloak and loosened her grip on her parchment. As it had with all the other submissions, the blue flames turned red as it swallowed the parchment. Sparks shot into the air briefly before the fire settled itself once more.

She stared at the Goblet of Fire for a moment more before turning away. She softened her footfalls as she left the Great Hall, wary of crossing paths with others. Fortunately, she returned to the common room without seeing another living being.

Alex didn't remove the invisibility cloak until after she climbed into bed. The snores of her roommates faded out of existence as she pulled the curtain of the four-poster closed. The two-way noise-cancelling charms meant no one could hear what she was doing either, so she didn't worry about subtlety as she threw off the cloak and shoved it beneath her pillow.

Drained, Alex tucked herself in and spent the rest of the night staring at nothing.


End file.
